


Our Reasons For Dying

by alkjira



Category: Dragon Age II, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon What Canon?, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dragon Age II Spoilers, F/M, Gen, Hobbit Big Bang 2014, Long, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 123,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the start of our story we have Thorin and his family fleeing from their home after it has been overrun by an enemy impossible to fight.<br/>Sound familiar? Well this time it's not a Dragon they run from, it's an army of Darkspawn. (All things considered, I'd rather go with the Dragon.)</p><p>Despite having left Middle-earth for Thedas some things will remain the same, but some things will most definitely not.<br/>To learn what is what and who is left standing after the dust has settled, please, read on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Present

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm done. I'm at the point where I don't care if anyone reads this, because I am done with it and it's been one hell of a ride. Wow. Not at all what I expected when I planned on participating in the Hobbit Big Bang. It's about twice as long for one. (If I've not got the longest Big Bang my hat goes off to whoever poor person who is crazier than me.)
> 
> Wow. 
> 
> Well, since you're here, I hope you'll like it. Chapter notes will have links to the Dragon Age Wiki, mainly for the things I felt would have been explained in the game's Codex pages, and to save me from exposition hell.  
> The rape/underage is non-graphic and does not involve major characters. 
> 
> Don't miss the wonderful amazing art for this story  
> http://pandamani.tumblr.com/post/86830130354/the-second-fic-i-did-art-for-the-hobbit-big-bang
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can add that I have chosen not to have a beta, so feel free to ready the tar and feathers ;)  
> Any glaring mistakes, you know where the comment box is.
> 
> Chapter titles which are actual titles are taken from Dragon Age II quests, dialogue has sometimes been borrowed from either canon, as has the actual canon.

“I am capable of walking,” Ori protested as she tried to make her legs long enough to properly reach the ground. “If you’d just… walk a little slower. And put me _down_.”  
  
Oh, Dori would be so upset once she realised what had happened. And if Dori got upset, Dwalin got upset, and then things would begin to get smashed.  
  
There had been enough smashing as of late without adding in any more, Ori thought morosely.  
  
At least the only thing being broken this very second was her dignity. It was _very_ demeaning to be dragged into Thorin’s – what had been Thorin’s - estate like this; like she was a criminal carted off to prison. Was feeling like this why Nori had cleaned up her act, well mostly, and stopped stealing things? (Well mostly.)  
  
If so Ori could definitely understand why her sister had elected to do so because this _really_ wasn’t fun in the slightest. Even cooking was more fun than this and cooking usually involved things getting set on fire.  
  
“I promise _,_ my feet are _very_ functional.”  
  
“Save your promises and words for the Seeker, Dwarf,” the guard holding her left arm cautioned. His words were thick with an Orlesian accent and he did not even bother to look down at her when he spoke. How uncouth. She hadn’t really expected better after being plucked from the street like an errant child being out after her curfew, but still, courtesy came cheap. She’d expected better from someone from Orlais, even if he was a Chantry guard. A Dwarfnapping Chantry guard at that.

All things considered though - seeing as both guards wore the symbol of the Chantry on their armour –her situation could be a lot worse than just being half dragged, half carried around Hightown and into Thorin’s old home. Much, much worse. If they’d actually been Templars, perhaps some of the newly arrived ones who… No, she was not going to go there.  
  
Not that _anything_ related to the Chantry promised good things at the moment, but at least these guards didn’t seem to be so quick to draw their swords. Ori bit her bottom lip. Yet.  
  
Dori was never going to let this go. She’d been going on for weeks about how they should leave Kirkwall and settle somewhere less… broken. More Templars arrived each day, and the unrest grew with them. Everyone; from the beggars in Lowtown to the aristocrats in Hightown, had this wary look in their eyes, even the people in Darktown managed to seem even more distrustful than normal.  
  
All of Kirkwall knew that a storm was still brewing. What they had seen so far was just the start. The first gusts of wind before the sky darkened and the hurricane came.  
  
As the guards moved her through the estate’s entrance hall Ori’s gaze fell on the empty spot where Thorin’s cloak had used to hang. The thing had been ridiculous, fur lined even though Kirkwall was much too hot for it. But he’d looked very handsome in it, and Ori suspected that he’d been very aware of it. The cloak had always made an appearance when he’d gone to visit Bilbo.  
  
She hoped that he and Nori were all right, that they all were all right. Did they think of her as often as she thought of them? Ori couldn’t see how they could. But neither could she really see a way for them all to be together.  
  
Dori might talk and talk about how they should leave, but there was a _reason_ as to why they hadn’t joined Nori when she’d opted to follow Thorin, and it was the very same reason as to way Dori kept _saying_ that they should leave but hadn’t really lifted a finger to do just that.  
  
Her sister fretted and fussed and made more and more tea, all the while keeping one hand pressed to her stomach and the swell that was just beginning to be obvious even beneath several layers of clothes.  
  
A life on the run from the Templars would not be good for either Dori or the little one who was coming. And Ori couldn’t leave her sister, not when Nori had already done so, (not that Ori blamed her for wanting to leave, not really) and regardless of how much Dwalin wanted to go with Thorin, he would rather cut off his beard than leave Dori and their unborn child.  
  
Also, leaving Kirkwall… that was easier said than done.  
  
Kirkwall had _never_ been peaceful, but it had been their home for almost twenty years. Ori hardly even remembered Orzammar. Kirkwall was the only home she’d ever had. And the only real home Dori and Nori had had too.  
  
Orzammar… it had just been a place where they’d been allowed to stay; and that only barely. Ori remembered the day they’d finally left, how she’d clung to Dori’s skirts and been scared half to death by the very different world on the surface. Now… now she couldn’t really imagine a life without a blue endless sky above her. Or a life without Kirkwall.  
  
The concept of a home might not mean much to Nori, but it did to Ori, and to Dori too.  
  
If they _had_ stayed in Orzammar… Nori would probably have been dead by now. Killed by guards for stealing, or while doing something moronic for the damned Carta. Perhaps even being killed by guards _while_ doing something stupid for the Carta, which most likely would have involved stealing.  
  
Beautiful Dori might have found a noble to carry a son for, but she would have hated to sell herself like that.  
  
Dwalin didn’t care if the babe would be a boy or a girl, or about castes, he loved them, and he’d rather shave off his beard and call himself a nug than abandon them.  
  
As for herself… Ori didn’t really know what would have happened to her if they’d stayed in Orzammar. If Dust Town would have been all she’d known she probably would have never learned to read and write, and that certainly seemed like a fate worse than death.  
  
Ori swallowed as she glanced down at the swords strapped to the belts of the men holding her. But death was not looking very enticing either. She _really_ hoped that they wouldn’t think they needed those. And if someone had seen her be taken and told Dori and Dwalin about it, she hoped that no one would do anything stupid.  
  
Of course, most people of living in Hightown were not very likely to pay any attention to a Dwarf being dragged away by a couple of Chantry guards, and Ori doubted that the average resident of Hightown would recognise her at all, much less as one of Thorin’s former companions. They’d just notice her height and then writing her off as someone not important. Perhaps they’d think her a thief getting her just desserts.  
  
It was very unlikely that they’d go out of their way to find another Dwarf and tell them what had happened, much less know that Dori or Dwalin were the ones who would be worried about her.  
  
If it had been Thorin who had been taken… then maybe someone would have cared. For the gossip if nothing else. But she most definitely wasn’t Thorin. She’d just been his friend, and as mentioned, she didn’t really think anyone in Hightown would know that.  
  
After they’d gotten back from the Deep Roads expedition, once things had settled, they’d all continued to spend time together, but the most they’d done in the public eye was to occasionally stroll through the markets together or meet at the Hanged Man for drinks. And no one talked about what happened in the Hanged Man unless they wanted to find themselves staring up at a pissed-off Beorn, which would be the last thing they’d see in a while.  
  
She’d not really been involved with anything Thorin had done afterwards, definitely not with anything Bilbo had done, so there was no reason for anyone to grab her off the streets unless they wanted to know what stupid songs Thorin sang when he was drunk.  
  
Ori had assumed that no one would be bothering with her or Dori, or Dwalin. If Nori had still been around then Ori could understand if the Chantry had wanted to talk to her about Bilbo, because ther sister and Bilbo had been friends for a long time and everyone knew it. Okay, no one in Hightown probably knew that, but the people in Lowtown did, and the people in Darktown.  
  
Regardless, since she _had_ been taken by Chantry guards, it would appear that what people said about assuming was entirely correct.  
  
Maybe they should have followed their friends out of Kirkwall, even considering the risk. But it was so stupid! She’d not done anything _wrong_! And neither had Dori and Dwalin. They’d not even been at the Gallows when things had gone pear-shaped once and for all and Ori didn’t want to spend the rest of her life running and looking over her shoulder. She wanted to have a home.  
  
But if this Seeker person wanted to see her, it was likely that they _did_ think that she’d done something wrong. It was unlikely that they’d haul her off the street merely to discuss her ventures into the noble art of writing, or to compliment her on her new skirt. Or in fact to know what kind of drinking songs Thorin knew. But if it was the latter Ori would be perfectly happy to tell them that Thorin only knew stupid ones, but he had a lovely voice so most people didn’t mind.  
  
Ori stared morosely down at the stone floor as the guards carried her up the stairs.  
  
If only she’d gone to the shop in Darktown instead… Who cared if their parchment frayed and smelled like fish? There was no way that Chantry guards would have just been allowed to do what they’d pleased in Darktown. The people had not forgotten all that Bilbo had done for them over the years, and what the Chantry hadn’t. And they wouldn't have forgotten what Thorin had tried to do, and the things he had been able to fix. A lot of them liked Nori too, even if just as many of them didn’t...  
  
Still, on the whole, Ori was fairly certain that someone would at least have gotten the word to Dori and Dwalin if they’d seen her be taken.  
  
Though perhaps it was better that they didn’t know...  
  
As soon as Ori had realised that she was being taken to what had been Thorin’s estate she knew that it could only lead to something very bad. You didn’t take someone to an abandoned house to have a _nice_ chat with them. If Dori and Dwalin knew... she didn’t want Dori and Dwalin to get hurt because of her. She’d rather di-  
  
Clenching her right fist until her nails bit into the palm of her hand Ori determinedly stopped that thought and started on a new one.  
  
It was very strange being back in Thorin’s – what had been Thorin’s –the young Dwarf bit back a sigh and looked at the dusty curtains that blocked most of the light from the big windows in the upstairs antechamber.  
  
Thorin wasn’t ever going to come back. Yet, to her it would always be Thorin’s home, his and Dís’ and perhaps even Bilbo’s. Even if he’d never officially moved in.  
  
She’d spent so many evenings by one of the estate’s many fireplaces talking to them that it wasn’t hard to picture them sitting there now. Dís and Bilbo would be teasing Thorin about something, and he would be all long-suffering sighs and smiling eyes and casually ask Dís where she’d misplaced the hulking blond beard that had taken to follow her around.  
  
They’d all been happy for a little while at least. Things had been good, for a while.  
  
Now there was no fires quietly popping and crackling in the fireplaces. The entire estate had been empty for almost three months, and dust had begun to gather not just in the curtains (which to be entirely honest had always looked a little worse for wear) but everywhere else as well. The place looked forgotten, perhaps even… _dead_ , and the thought caused Ori to shiver.  
  
Ancestors be with her now, even though she was far from the Stone she’d been born to. Even if she didn’t particularly want to go back. Surely her Ancestors wouldn't hold that against her?  
  
“Umph!” As they entered Thorin’s study Ori found herself unceremoniously dumped into a chair. Pushing her fringe away from her eyes she looked around the room.  
  
There was Thorin’s desk, now completely empty of his and Bilbo’s papers. And there, the empty sword stand. And the ugly greenish statue that Thorin had found in the market in Lowtown and then insisted to drag all the way across Kirkwall, even though it had been heavy as lead. She wasn’t even sure how he and Dwalin had gotten it up the stairs. Maybe Bilbo had enchanted it... But what he should have done was to enchant it to actually look like the pony Thorin claimed that it was.  
  
Out of the corner of her eyes Ori saw movement and she turned her head to see a human stride out from the shadows. Aside from the armour she wore she looked much like any woman Ori had seen before, well, except for how her dark hair was as short as any boy's. That certainly wasn’t in fashion in Kirkwall.  
  
Judging by the colour of her skin she was probably from Rivain or Antiva, or any place that saw more sun than Ferelden or the Free Marches.  
  
She was tall, as most humans were wont to be, and dressed from head to toe in gleaming armour. On the breastplate there was the same seal that Ori had seen on the armour of the two guards, or… almost the same. The Sun with its wavy arms was the same Chantry symbol as always, but now there was an eye inside it. Ori had never seen this variation before, and she didn’t much like it.  
  
It felt as if the eye was staring at her, judging her, and most likely finding her wanting. If it was supposed to be the Maker from the Chant of Light then Ori didn’t understand why those following the Chantry wanted him back for. At least it wasn’t the flaming sword of the Templars though, that was always something. Glaring was better than stabbing any day.  
  
The woman had a dagger in a sheath on her hip, but Ori couldn’t see any other weapons, instead she noted to her surprise that the human carried a thick book.  
  
Ori allowed herself to be cautiously optimistic over this. A book was always interesting, and very rarely used to torture people with. She still didn’t think this would be a discussion about writing, but perhaps it wasn’t about to end with her body _literally_ being dragged away from here and dumped in a bush outside to give some uppity aristocrat a scare once they found her. (Having a lively and quick imagination was a great talent to have as a writer, but not for the first time Ori cursed her mind’s ability always find the _worst_ possible resolution for any given situation.)

Ori absently rubbed at her upper arms where the guards had held her. If she’d get away from this without bruises it’d be because Dwarves were a sturdy people, and not because they two guards had been particularly gentle with her. And if she’d get away from this with _only_ bruises, then she’d be lucky indeed.  
  
“I’ve had kinder invitations for a meeting,” she said quietly to the woman who stepped further into the circle light coming from the lantern that had been placed on top of Thorin’s chest of drawers. Dust swirled in the rays of light and danced and tumbled like tiny fireflies.  
  
“I am Ioreth, Seeker of the Chantry.”  
  
The words had no hint of an accent, which surprised Ori somewhat. She’d rather been expecting an Orlesian one, not only because of the way the guard had spoken, but the Chantry’s seat of power was in Orlais. Considering what had happened Ori would not have been startled if this woman had come from the Grand Cathedral, sent by the Divine herself.  
  
The woman nodded her head at the two guards and they bowed their heads and left the room without as much as a backward glance. Good riddance.  
  
“What are you seeking?” Ori asked a bit sullenly, not bothering to introduce herself. Manners where nice and all, but this woman had hardly decided to pull just any Dwarf from the street. She would already knew who she was talking to.  
  
Also, Ori had been having a perfectly lovely day up until being dragged away. _If_ she was going to be killed for having been friends with Thorin, Dís and Bilbo, for being Nori’s sister, then she was not going to be polite about it. She only hoped that Dori and Dwalin would hear of it in time to escape. The only thing worse than ending up dead in a bush would be knowing that Dori and Dwalin and the unborn babe would end up there too.  
  
“I seek the one called Oakenshield.”  
  
“Oh, haven’t you heard. He _left_ ,” Ori said while studying her nails, trying to look suitably bored. However inside her chest her heart had started pounding like mad.  
  
It was one thing to expect this to be about her friends, her family, and another to have it stated so plainly. Not for the first time Ori wondered if Bilbo hadn’t told them anything about what he was planning because he wanted to protect them. Or if he’d kept his silence since he’d thought that they’d stop him. There was so much he’d not told them…  
  
As things stood, Ori wasn’t guilty of anything other than being Bilbo’s friend, and Thorin’s friend, and what she knew of magic wouldn’t even fill a thimble. But she also knew that innocence wasn’t always what got you out of a mess.  
  
“I know that he left,” the Seeker agreed as she pulled her dagger from its sheath. It gleamed in the light from the lantern, and its edge looked mighty sharp. Crap.  
  
“And you will tell me everything you know about him, where he went, and everything that happened in Kirkwall over the course of the last years.”  
  
“Well, the year before last started with the family in the fourth house on the left after the pawn shop had a little baby girl.” Ori gulped as the point of the dagger was suddenly inches from her throat.  
Double crap.  
  
Just as quickly as the blade had been thrust towards her throat, the book was dropped into her lap, and for a moment Ori actually forgot about the dagger and instinctively started leaning down to check on the tome.  
  
The sharp sting of the blade against her neck was a very abrupt wake-up call. Triple crap.  
  
“You know exactly why I am here,” the Seeker said softly. “I need you to tell me the story of Thorin Oakenshield. They tell me that you’re good at telling stories, even better than your sister.”  
  
While Ori was trying to figure out just who ‘they’ were, the woman opened the book to a seemingly random page, and the young Dwarf’s attention was immediately drawn to it once more. She peered down at the open pages the best as she could without moving her neck and as she realised what she was looking at her mouth fell open in wonder.  
  
It was a crudely drawn, but still beautiful, portrait of Thorin. Just a small one; smaller than her palm, drawn into a hexagon frame in the middle of the page. Thorin wasn’t alone either. The portrait was surrounded by six others; Nori, Ori herself, Dori. Dwalin. Dís. And Bilbo. All set into hexagons, all connected, and surrounded by what almost looked like _Dwarven_ knotwork.  
  
Ori licked her lips. “How-?”

When the woman stabbed the dagger into the middle of the opposite page Ori flinched back against the chair.  
  
“You damaged the book!” she gasped, outraged that anyone would do such a thing. And if it hadn’t been such a thick book she’d have a hole in her leg! _And_ in her new skirt!  
  
“Tell me what I wish to know,” the Seeker said calmly. “And that is the only thing I will take my blade to.”  
  
“You can’t imagine that I’ll believe that you don’t already know what happened here in Kirkwall,” Ori said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring up at the Seeker.  
  
“The entire _world_ knows what Bilbo did. About Dís. What happened. That’s why the Circles have rebelled, why some of the Templars have as well. Yes-“ Ori nodded when she caught the hint of surprise flashing over the woman’s face. “I know about that. News has already spread. The Chantry has a war on its hands. You’ve lost control of most Mages and more than a few Templars. And you wish to hear my _stories_?” Ori threw her arms up. “I don’t even know where they are! They left! Thorin _left_!”  
  
Ori couldn’t understand why the Seeker had mentioned Thorin specifically, and not Dís or Bilbo. If the woman had wanted to hear Bilbo’s story, then Ori could at least have understood _why_. Spark a war between the Chantry, the Templars and the Mages and people would be interested in hearing when exactly your life had taken an odd turn. Not to mention that Bilbo’s story would have been remarkable even leaving out that, um, set of circumstances. Ori wasn’t about to tell the Seeker that though. She’d die before breaking Bilbo’s trust.  
  
Ori could also understand if the Chantry had been interested in Dís, but Thorin? He might be a hero to the people but he wasn’t the one who had-  
  
“If you do not understand why I wish to find him, then you do not understand half as much as you think you do, little one.”  
  
Ori bristled, but bit her tongue. The book was a heavy weight in her lap, and she absently touched a finger to the hilt of the dagger. Nori would probably have pulled it free and buried it in the woman’s neck. Dwalin would have done the same and thrown himself out of the chair to follow it up with a fist to her face, and Dori would probably have thrown the book and dagger both at her, knocking her out cold.

Ori, on the other hand, had never been particularly good at fighting. Especially not when she didn’t have her slingshot or crossbow. That was why it had been so dratted difficult to convince Nori that she’d be allowed to come on the Deep Roads expedition in the first place.  
  
“Tell me everything you know,” the Seeker demanded, her dark eyes narrow and intent. “Even if you do not know where he is now, you can help me _find_ him. You were his friend, and you _are_ a scribe and storyteller. I wish for you to tell me the story of Thorin Oakenshield. Tell me, and you have my word you will not come to harm.”  
  
“It’s a long story,” Ori warned, inwardly cursing herself for already having begun to formulate an opening line. ’ _It began when Thorin arrived to Kirkwall-‘_ Only that wasn’t right was it? It began before that.  
  
“As long as it’s a true story.” The Seeker unexpectedly smiled, showing straight white teeth and a dimple in one cheek. It seemed like a honest smile too.  
  
Nori always said that liars don’t smile with their eyes, unless they’re really good liars, and Ori observed the twinkle in the human’s eyes with no small amount of caution.  
  
“I only wish to hear the truth,” the Seeker continued. “That is what I seek, above all things. The truth. It is my sole purpose as a Seeker for the Chantry.”  
  
“What if you won’t like the truth you find?” Ori asked warily.  
  
The woman shrugged. “It is still the truth. The truth is absolute, it is not possible to like nor dislike it. But I need you to tell me _everything_. If you do, I swear that you will not come to harm. And neither will your family.”  
  
For a long moment Ori hesitated. But what choice did she have? And if she… would occasionally skip a few details to keep her loved ones safe, that wouldn’t really be lying. And even if it was, it’s not like the Seeker would know.  
  
The story of Thorin Oakenshield might be a familiar one to most by now, but it hadn’t yet been told in its entirety by someone who had actually known him. Knew him still, Ori corrected herself. He wasn’t dead after all.  
  
He better not be.  
  
“Very well.” Ori closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly. For a few moments there was only the sound of her own breaths, and those belonging to the Seeker, and in Ori’s lap the book felt heavier than before; pressing her down into the chair.  
  
Opening her eyes she moved her ink stained fingers to brush over the side of Thorin’s face. He looked stern.  
  
“The story begins in the Frostback Mountains,” Ori said and lightly scraped her nail over the neat lines of Thorin’s short beard. “A little over two years ago, in the thaig called Erebor. Erebor was amongst the last of the great Dwarven cities of old, and stretched for countless miles beneath the peaks and crags of the mountains west of Lake Calenhad. It was an ordinary day in the thaig, but it would not remain one.  
  
“The Fifth Blight was just about to begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Despite the linkage I hope I will have provided enough of a background for you in the story to only need these as an add-on *fingers crossed*  
> But since the world of Dragon Age is so huge it's not been easy, which means: please have some links.
> 
>  
> 
> [Orlais](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Orlais)
> 
> [Carta](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Carta)
> 
> [Nug](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Nug)


	2. Act One

_"One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see"  
~Sandal – Dragon Age II_


	3. Chapter One - The Destruction of Erebor

“Faster!” Thorin shouted. “They’re gaining on us!”  
  
Neither his siblings, nor his father, wasted their breath with a reply. Apart from the Darkspawn chasing them they were alone now. Just the four of them. They had been separated from the last of their kin in the chaos after the latest ambush by the tainted beings, and although Thorin hoped that the others fared better than they currently were, he didn’t truly believe it. The Darkspawn were too many, much too many to fight. All they could do was run, run and hope that if they ran quickly enough and far enough, they would be able to escape.

It seemed to Thorin that they had been running forever, even though he could see on the sun that it was not even half a day since that the Darkspawn had swept through Erebor; forcing everyone to either abandon the thaig or die inside of it.  
  
Many had chosen to do the latter, not being able to imagine a life away from the stone that had been their whole existence. Many had tried to do the former only to die beneath a foreign blue sky, so different from the solid rock they were used to.  
  
How Thorin had not lost his father and siblings was a miracle. But there had been many close calls which would chill Thorin’s blood to ice if he allowed himself to think of them. Their blessing was that they had all been to the surface before, even if Dís had only ever seen the sky twice.  
  
Thráin’s business with the Chantry had forced him to travel outside Erebor’s stone many times, and in the five years since reaching his maturity Thorin had often joined his father, as had Frerin now that he also was of age. Such a thing would have been frowned upon had it also not brought a great deal of wealth into Erebor – and to be sure, some frowned on it regardless - but now Thorin could only be grateful that his father had never paid undue noticed to that kind of talk.  
  
They had not hesitated as they’d stumbled out of Erebor’s front gates and into an existence beneath an blue, infinite sky, and that had been their salvation.

Thorin whipped his head around as Frerin made a pained noise. His brother had stumbled on something, and as Thorin watched he tumbled gracelessly to the ground. The Darkspawn were closer still, but not yet upon them. There was still time. Turning on his heel, Thorin rushed to Frerin’s side.  
  
His brother was clutching his ankle and he shook his head sharply when Thorin crouched down beside him. It made his braids fly around his face in a golden dance and Thorin gently brushed them away from his brother’s face.  
  
“It’s either broken or badly sprained,” Frerin said tightly. “I’ll not be running on it in either case, not even if we had the time to bind it. And you know Dís can’t fix it. You need to go.”  
  
“I’m not leaving you,” Thorin said firmly. “Put your arms over my shoulders. I’ll carry you.”  
  
“ _Frerin_!” Dís called. “ _Thorin_ , you have to come!”  
  
“We’ll both die,” Frerin said, clasping Thorin’s shoulder and giving it a shake. “Go, brother. I’ll not be the reason for your death. Or for father’s and Dís’ if you are not there to-”  
  
“You will hold on to me or I swear to the Stone that I will carry you like a babe!” Thorin snarled. He turned his head and looked to Dís where she was standing next Thráin, nervously bouncing from foot to foot. “I need you to take care of this group of Darkspawn!” he called. “Frerin is injured.”  
  
“But-“ Dís looked between Thorin and her father. “I’m not sure I can.”  
  
“We’ll do it together,” Thráin promised, only a small tremor in his voice giving away his worry. “I'll be right here with you. Remember what we practiced. With the ice. Picture it now. Let it fill your mind.”  
  
Dís sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh. “Ice. _Ice_. Right.”

“Just don’t aim for your brothers.” Thráin’s smile was more than a little unsteady but fortunately Dís’ attention was already fixed on the Darkspawn. They were close now. Terribly close. “You know how grumpy Thorin gets when he is cold.”  
  
“He’s always grumpy,” Dís said faintly, her eyes already glazing over and her hands beginning to glow with a milky sapphire light.  
  
Thorin had by this point coaxed Frerin into climbing onto his back and had begun to run towards their father and sister, if at a much reduced pace compared to before.  
  
He could hear the Darkspawn now; the sound of their armour, the grunts they made. He imagined he could even smell them; blood and death and something incredibly foul that could only be the taint they carried.  
  
“ _FREEZE_!” Dís shouted, and Thorin lowered his head on reflex, having seen for himself that Dís’ aim wasn’t always the best. She’d never hurt one of them, and only partially because of the natural resistance Dwarves had against magic, but there were plenty of inanimate objects that had not been so lucky. This time though, she was flawless.  
  
The noise from behind them abruptly ceased and when Thorin turned it was to the sight of five Darkspawn completely encased in thick ice that glittered like diamond in the sunlight.

“Nicely done!” Frerin called, and Thorin hushed him.  
  
“Quiet. I don’t hear any more Darkspawn, but we do not want to call the attention of another pack.”  
  
“If they didn’t hear Dís yelling then they’re hardly going to have heard me.”  
  
“Be quiet even so,” Thorin grunted and shifted his grip on his brother.

“I think that might have been all of them,” Thráin said as Thorin and Frerin caught up to him and Dís. “I do not hear more of the vile creatures.”  
  
“For now,” Thorin said tightly. “We need to keep moving.” He looked searchingly at his sister. “Are you feeling allright. Not light-headed?”

“It’s been ages since I got light-headed doing something like that,” Dís murmured and straightened her shoulders. “If I have to, if more Darkspawn comes, I can do it again. I’m sorry I can’t do anything about your foot,” she added to Frerin, voice heavy with regret.  
  
“What you did just now was plenty,” Frerin said and flashed his sister a quick smile over Thorin’s head before growing serious again. “But can we really keep this up until we get Orzammar?”  
  
“We only need to run until we have lost the Darkspawn,” Thorin promised. “And there have been less and less of them. We will make it. Our Ancestors are with us. But we need to move. _Now_.”  
  
They ran once more. All except Frerin who Thorin still carried on his back. After a while they could hear the sound of more Darkspawn, but it was faint and distant, and it was impossible to say if the sound was coming closer or moving away.  
  
Occasionally they would hear equally distant screaming for help, and each cry tore at Thorin’s heart. But even if they could have gotten there in time it was unlikely that they would have been able to do something except die with the poor souls yelling.  
  
Thorin was the only one who was armed if you did not count Dís’ magic, and with Frerin on his back he would not be able to use his blade very efficiently. Dís was not strong enough to carry their brother very far, and if she were to use her magic she needed both hands free, and their father would tire far quicker if he had to carry Frerin's weight as well as his own. Neither Dís nor Thráin knew how to handle a sword, so giving it up would not solve anything either.

A sharp spike of regret jabbed itself in Thorin’s chest and the sharpness of it almost made him stumble. _Lóni_. If not for him, Thorin wouldn't know how to use a sword either.  
  
Selling Lyrium to the Chantry did not teach you how fight, but befriending one of the Proving champions did. Amongst other things.   
  
It was possible that he would never know Lóni’s fate. He could only hope that his friend and sometimes lover would be watched over by his own Ancestors. When he died there was no question that the Stone would welcome him.  
  
-

For a long time there were no more Darkspawn to be seen, and Thorin had just begun to think about calling out for a short rest; while Dís had never shown any prowess at all when it came to healing magic they could at least wrap Frerin’s ankle so it didn’t swell too badly, and she could certainly help keep it cold to prevent any further swelling.  
  
They’d go up the hill and down on the other side so they’d be less visible, and perhaps that would be a suitable place to-  
  
The three Dwarves stopped running the moment they heard the now familiar grunts and hisses.  
  
“Darkspawn,” Frerin whispered in Thorin’s ear and the dark-haired Dwarf nodded grimly and tightened his grip on his brother. Which way had the sound come from? Did they dare climb the path to the top of the hill to see?  
  
Apparently Dís thought so because she was already moving, if cautiously. Thorin looked at their father and they traded wary nods and quickly followed her. They were not going to let themselves be separated now.  
  
It seemed to Thorin as every single step they took made a terribly loud noise more than capable of drawing the Darkspawn to them. Their boots crunched against the stones and gravel that littered the path and when Thráin stepped on a small stick the dry crack appeared to echo in the surrounding landscape. But as they scaled the hill it was made clear that his worry had been exaggerated - if it was at all possible for worry to be exaggerated under circumstances like this.  
  
The Darkspawn were a good distance away still, milling around in front of an outcropping of large boulders. Thorin looked around, trying to make a plan. If they went down the hill to the left, and around, then they would likely be able to pass them by without the Darkspawn being the wiser.  
  
“Oh no,” Dís breathed and Thorin was just about to reassure her when he spotted what she had already seen.  
  
He did not recognize the two Dwarves, but he didn’t doubt that they too had escaped when the Darkspawn burst up out of Erebor’s Deep Roads. The rich colour of their clothes and the silvery shine of their armour marked them as belonging to the noble caste, but Thorin was too far away to discern their house and stature.  
  
One was significantly taller than the other and bald with a dark beard. The other was older, his hair and beard both white as chalk. They were better equipped than Thorin and his family, wearing armour and holding weapons; the bald one had war hammer and the other a fierce battle axe. But be that as it may, they were corned. At their backs were boulders too tall and smooth to climb, and at their front; _Darkspawn_. Too many to fight. As soon as the Darkspawn stopped playing with them they would be dead.

“We have to help them,” Dís whispered.  
  
Thorin quickly counted the Darkspawn. Almost three dozen. “Dís, we’ll just die with them. I’m the only one who can-”

“I can help, if you and those two can handle the ones that my magic won’t get.” Dís raised her chin. “I’m not sure how strong I’ll be so close after the last time, but we have to _try_. We can’t just pretend that we’ve not seen them.”

It wasn’t just that his sister would be weaker after casting a spell so soon after the last one, it would also be the first time she showed her magic to anyone outside her family and every bone in Thorin’s body told him that this was a bad idea. There was a reason why Thráin had never allowed her to accompany him on his business trips, and while these two Dwarves would be very unlikely to have any connections to the human Chantry and their Templars, Thorin’s first instinct was still to protect his sister over any pair of strangers.  
  
Cruel as it may be, if the Darkspawn were kept busy, that meant that they would not hunt _them_.  
  
He looked between Dís and the two Dwarves. The white-haired one was favouring his left side, clearly injured. And there were darker streaks in his hair that looked like blood, most likely his own.

“Put me down, brother,” Frerin said quietly into his ear. “Help them. Let Dís help them.”

Thorin still hesitated. He looked at his father and Thráin nodded slowly. “Provings come in all shapes and sizes, and it is not always in the arena that we show our worth. Sometimes we have to trust that the Ancestors will guide us. Help them, Thorin.”  
  
Thorin hesitated for another moment before releasing his grip on Frerin’s legs and letting them return to the ground. For a moment the arms around Thorin’s chest tightened in a hug, then the blond let go and hobbled the few steps to Thráin; who wrapped his arm around his son to help him stand.  
  
Thorin met Dís’ eyes and the next moment the two were running down the hill.

Dís called out something Thorin couldn’t quite make out, but he certainly felt how the temperature abruptly dropped. The two strangers looked up at the shout, or perhaps at the cold, finally noticing that they were not alone. The taller one bared his teeth in a desperate snarl.  
  
“RUN!” he bellowed. “Don’t be stupid. It’s-”  
  
Dís moved her arm in a sharp sweeping motion and a burst of frost leapt from her hand, enveloping a good half of the Darkspawn before them. She’d no more finished the motion before she stumbled to a halt, swaying on her feet before falling to her knees, but when Thorin paused and moved towards her she shook her head.  
  
“I’m fine. Go help them. Go!”  
  
Thorin drew his blade and ran.  
  
It was lucky that Dís’ spell had caught the attention of the Darkspawn as well, because the two Dwarves were still just standing around with mirror expression of incredulity on their faces.

“Fight!” Thorin roared as he thrust his blade into the stomach of the closest unfrozen Darkspawn, careful to get as little as possible of the tainted blood on himself. “Fight!”  
  
Thorin’s command seemed to break the pair out of their daze and the larger of the two let out a loud bellow, swinging his hammer into the heads of two Darkspawn who instantly fell to the ground.

The Ancestors must truly be with them, because when all the Darkspawn lay dead on the ground, Thorin found himself still standing. He was breathing heavily, gaze jumping around to find the next target, but the only Darkspawn not yet cut down stood frozen by Dís’ magic. With a grunt Thorin bashed the hilt of his sword against one of the frozen ones and the thing shattered satisfyingly into thousands of pieces. No wonder Dís had been forced to catch her breath, he’d never seen her completely freeze something this big before.

“ _Magic_?” one of the strangers said and Thorin turned his attention to them and raised one eyebrow.  
  
“You’re _welcome_ ,” he said pointedly.  
  
“Our kind can’t use _magic_.” It was the older of the two who had spoken. “It’s not possible.”  
  
“Then I assume you are merely imagining things.” Thorin turned and started jogging back to where his family was waiting. Enough with the good deeds.  
  
The large party of Darkspawn that they’d just slain might be a good sign; an indication that all the ones in the area had banded together and now the way ahead would be clear. But Thorin wasn’t sure how far the noise from the battle would have travelled. They needed to start moving again as quickly as they were able.  
  
“If you can keep up, you are welcome to join us,” Thorin called over his shoulder, not looking back to see if the pair followed. Still, he wasn’t even halfway to Dís when he heard two pairs of feet running after him.  
  
When he reached his sister Thorin allowed himself to fold her into his arms for a few moments.  
  
“You did good, sister mine,” he whispered into the sweaty and dirty locks of her dark hair. “Are you well enough to run once more?”  
  
He felt Dís nod and he pulled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Then we run.”  
  
Thráin was already making his way down the hill, Frerin on his back, and as Thorin and Dís moved to meet them the two strangers caught up with them. Whatever injury the older of the two had suffered it did not seem to impair him overly much when it came to running. Good, that meant they would be able to keep up.  
  
“I can carry him,” the taller Dwarf offered when Thorin crouched down to let Frerin climb into his back. Thorin looked up at the other Dwarf and shook his head.  
  
“I’ll carry him. Just be prepared to fight if there are more Darkspawn around.”  
  
“We are very thankful-,” the older began, and Thorin sighed as he got back up again.  
  
“Save it until we are actually safe. Now, _run_.” And they did. They kept north, towards Orzammar and salvation. Because Orzammar would not have met the same fate, it would not. It _could_ not.  
  
-  
  
When the ground began to shake Thorin first thought that it was simply his weary muscles protesting the abuse of them. He slowed, seeing his companions do the same.

“What-“ Thráin started to ask, but he didn’t need to finish the question.  
  
Up until that point the Darkspawn had merely been the genlocks that Thorin had seen once or twice before in his life.  
  
Every now and again they gathered behind the heavy doors barring the way into the Deep Roads and were quickly slain by the guards before they grew too numerous. Their corpses were then collected and burnt before they could spread their taint.  
  
Most nobles went their entire lives without seeing them, but the other castes usually weren’t that lucky.  
  
What had happened earlier that day had only been unusual because of the sheer numbers of the foul creatures that had spilled out from the underground tunnels. Too many for the guards to fight, too many to kill, too many for the gates to hold back…  
  
But what was running towards them now was not a genlock, and not one of the larger, stockier hurlocks either. It wasn’t even one of the beings called sharlocks, more known as shrieks, a creature that Thorin had never seen with his own two eyes, but that Lóni had told him about. No, what came thundering towards them was an _ogre_.

The beast seemed to be the size of a small mountain as it stomped towards them and Thorin stood frozen in fear and shock. How were they ever going to kill such a thing? Or even outrun it?  
  
When Thorin saw movement out of the corner of his eye he flinched, hands clenching around Frerin’s legs as they wanted to go for his sword, but what he’d seen was only the white-haired Dwarf, who was… running _towards_ the ogre?  
  
“Balin, _no_!” the other one shouted, beginning to run as well, but it was already too late.  
  
The ogre didn’t even pause, it simply snatched the one called Balin up in one of its huge hands and threw him back to the ground with a great roar that couldn’t quite cover the sickening sound of bones breaking, or the agonised cry coming from both the Dwarven nobles, even if only one of them would have felt the pain.

“Take Frerin. Stay back,” Thorin ordered his father as he loosened his grip on his brother, letting him down on the ground. “Hide if you can. Sister?”  
  
“This is not going to be fun, is it?” Dís said shakily. Her face was pale and her eyes spoke of her terror, but she held her head high and Thorin had never been more proud of her.  
  
“We have to try and kill it,” was all Thorin managed to say. They wouldn’t be able to run. There was no other option.  
  
“But how?” Dís murmured. She was however already moving towards the monster.  
  
The ogre roared again and swiped at the bald Dwarf as he swung his hammer at its leg. The creature missed, but the noble didn’t and the Darkspawn bellowed in pain as it sunk down on one knee.  
  
Letting out an answering bellow the Dwarf swung his hammer again.  
  
When Dís dropped down on the ground Thorin first thought that she’d fallen, perhaps injured by something he hadn’t seen, but she waved him on before pressing her palms to the rock below them.  
  
Trusting that she had a plan, Thorin continued while desperately wishing that he also had a plan.  
  
The Ogre was made up of massive grey muscle and menacing horns, naked except for a few pieces of rusty steel armour and a soiled loin cloth, but that did not make it look any less menacing. Nothing in the training he'd done with Lóni had prepared him for this.  
  
Dwarves normally had no connection to the Fade and their sleep was peaceful and undisturbed unlike that of humans and elves, but Dís had told him of her dreams, and of the nightmares that caused her to wake in the middle of the night and crawl into his or Frerin’s beds even though they were much too old for such things.  
  
The nightmares she had described as horrible things that you couldn’t have imagined to be real, but which suddenly was, and now Thorin thought that he finally understood what she’d meant.  
  
“Get him to punch at the ground!” Dís called.

“ _What_?!” Thorin yelled back.  
  
“Punch the ground! Make the ogre punch the _ground_!”  
  
Cursing under his breath Thorin darted in close to the ogre’s side and slashed at its other leg. For some reason he’d almost expected the blood that welled up to be black, but it was merely a darker shade of red than his own, sluggishly filling the wound.

The bald Dwarf seemed to be unstoppable as he again and again dodged the ogre’s roving hands and smashed his hammer into its knee and leg. But even so, the ogre managed to get back up on both feet and beat its chest with both fists while letting out another roar.

“Catch _me_ , if you can!” Thorin called, darting in between its legs, swiping the sword against the unprotected flesh of its inner thigh. “Stop hitting it,” he shouted to the bald Dwarf, hoping that he would hear him. “I need it to focus on me!”

The ogre clumsily turned around, and Thorin sprinted around it, forcing it to turn once more. Annoyed, it clenched both its hands into fists and raised them high above its head and Thorin paused.  
  
The moments he waited for the hands to start their decent lasted for an eternity, but as the ogre began its strike Thorin threw himself away from the spot that it would hit, calling out to Dís.

The huge fists struck the ground and sent a flurry of rocks and dirt Thorin’s way, and he covered his face with his arms while at the same time trying not to lose his sword and also to scramble back up on his feet. A sharp rock bounced off the side of his face, but he would only notice the wound much later, when it had already stopped bleeding. Thorin’s focus was entirely on the ogre.  
  
Any moment now, it would realise that it’d missed. And as soon as it did it would… it would- keep standing with its hands pressed against the ground?  
  
Thorin blinked, not sure if he trusted what his eyes were telling him.  
  
“I asked the stone to capture his hands!” Dís called, sounding a fair bit surprised herself. “For now, it’s stuck. I have no idea how long it will hold though. Figure out a way to kill it! Quickly!”

“Go to your friend,” Thorin said to the bald Dwarf. “I’ll end this.”  
  
The other Dwarf hesitated, and Thorin could see the burning need for revenge in his eyes, but still he nodded and hurried towards where his friend lay limp and unmoving on the ground. Like a doll having been thrown away by a careless child.  
  
Thorin hoped that he would make it, but knew better than to really believe it. Theirs was a sturdy people, but there were limits to what even they could survive.  
  
With the ogre bent over as it were, the head was at the perfect height for Thorin to slash its neck. The only issue was that the ogre kept thrashing its head, and roared loud enough to make Thorin’s ears ring. Stabbing his sword into the back of its right arm distracted it enough that he could duck beneath it and sink his sword deeply into its throat. A few drops of blood splattered onto his shoulder and hair and Thorin shuddered with disgust.

With a short, wordless cry, the ogre sank down onto the ground, and stayed there.  
  
“For you, Lóni,” Thorin whispered, because his friend had always liked the stories about the warriors of old and the great deeds that they had accomplished, the mighty foes that they had slain. Thorin had never harboured any aspirations of fame and renown, and now he had dealt the killing blow to an _ogre_. If they survived this, it would certainly be a story to tell.  
  
“Help him!” the bald Dwarf growled and Thorin dragged his eyes from the dead ogre to his companions.  
  
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Dís said, twisting her hands She was kneeling next to the two nobles, tears gathering in her eyes.  
  
“You’ve magic, _heal_ him!”  
  
“I tried! Just now, I tried! But I can’t! I can’t!”  
  
“Brother, you need to leave m-,” the white-haired Dwarf broke off to cough, bright red drops of blood splashing on his beard and chin. “’m dead already.“  
  
Indeed.  
  
It was a harsh truth, but frankly Thorin was surprised that the other Dwarf was still conscious. Both his legs looked to be crushed, and his armour was dented and cracked, bad enough that Thorin suspected that his ribs had gone much the same way.  
  
“No,” the larger of the two Dwarves grunted. “They will _not_ have you while I still draw breath.”  
  
“Much too late, Dwalin.” The older Dwarf shook his head and coughed again. “It’s not just my injuries, I’m tainted. I feel it. And you’ve seen it too, even if you’ve not admitted it to yourself. The pallor, the-.”

“No!”  
  
“Yes,” Balin said and coughed again, longer this time, and when he stopped his breathing had taken on a wet and shallow quality that was plain to hear, and his lips were stained with bright red blood.

“There are more Darkspawn coming,” Thráin said grimly, as he jogged up to them with Frerin on his back. “I saw them. They must have heard the ogre and they’re coming this way. At least a hundred. They’ll be here within minutes.”  
  
“Run,” Balin whispered.  
  
“Not without you,” Dwalin growled. Endlessly careful he gathered is brother up in his arms, knowing that he caused hurt, wincing each time Balin flinched.  
  
“Give Frerin to me,” Thorin told his father and sheathed his sword. “Dís, are you going to be able to run?”  
  
“Is there another choice?” she asked mirthlessly. Her face was paler than the underbelly of a cave fish and Thorin could see how her hands trembled. “I’ll do what I have to.”  
  
“I’ll slow you down,” Frerin said in a choked voice. “You need to-“  
  
“You’ll slow us down more if you don’t release father and climb onto my back,” Thorin growled. “I’m not leaving you now. We will-“

There was a sharp whoosh, and Frerin let out a gurgle as an arrow pierced his neck.   
  
His grip on Thráin relaxed, and as he would have fallen backwards if Dís hadn’t been there to catch him.  
  
“NO!” Thorin yelled, looking around for the archer. Ugly laughter drew his attention to a genlock standing on top of a cliff, bow in hand, and as he watched three more of the tainted beings joined it.  
  
“Frerin!” Dís cried, her hands already stained red from the blood that flowed from their brother’s neck.  
  
“Too late now,” Balin murmured, almost too quietly to be heard. “They’ve come.”  
  
Thorin looked around. Yes. Darkspawn raced towards them from all directions. Just genlocks and hurlocks this time, but too many for them to fight. It was hopeless. With grim acceptance Thorin lowered his gaze.

“Help me get him to the ground,” he said to Dís, and together they eased Frerin off Thráin’s back and onto the rocky ground. Frerin’s eyes had closed, and he was deathly pale except for the red that stained his entire front.  
  
“My little boy,” Thráin moaned, falling to his knees beside him. “My little golden boy, wake up. Please wake up.” Inches away from him, a Darkspawn arrow bounced off the stone.

“I’m so sorry, brother,” Thorin whispered, vaguely hearing his words echoed by Dwalin where he stood with Balin still pressed against his chest. “Tell mother we’re coming soon.”  
  
The Darkspawn was only moments away now, and Thorin straightened and drew his sword. Dead they might be, but he would not put such a low price on his life.  
  
Then, everything changed.  
  
From above came a noise that Thorin first mistook for a rockslide due to its low, rumbling quality. But they were not in Erebor where the rock sometimes shifted over the heads and beneath their feet.  
  
Was it thunder? The sky was an untouched slate of blue, mockingly pure considering what had happened. Surely it couldn’t be-  
  
No. Thorin only allowed himself to be distracted for a single moment more, and when the first wave of Darkspawn reached him he spun in a half-circle, neatly decapitating three of the tainted creatures. As he readied himself for his next move, the thundering sound was heard once more, and the world flashed white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Darkspawn](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Darkspawn)
> 
> [Thaig](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Thaig)
> 
> [Chantry](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Chantry)
> 
> [Provings](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Provings)
> 
> [Caste](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Caste)


	4. Chapter Two – Long Way Home (Questions and Answers)

When the world went white Thorin thought that one of the Darkspawn had managed to strike him, that he'd died. But the whiteness did not last for more than a few moments, and as reality came rushing back Thorin blinked his eyes rapidly a few times to clear them from the brightly coloured spots that danced in front of them.  
  
All the Darkspawn lay dead on the ground, from the ones almost brushing his feet to as far as he could see. And seemingly out of nowhere a human had appeared. An old man with long white hair and beard, dressed in robes of untouched white stood in the middle of the clearing. A Mage, Thorin realised, as much from the robes; and the staff that he was holding, as from what had just happened. He must have-  
  
" _Frerin_!" Dís cried and Thorin was abruptly reminded of what had happened just before the world had turned white.  
  
"Frerin," he echoed, scrambling to get over to his injured, hoping beyond hope that, _please just let him be injured_ , _please_ , brother, dropping his sword in his haste.  
  
"He's dead," Dís cried, raising tear filled eyes at Thorin. Thráin was curled over Frerin’s body, forehead pressed against Frerin’s limp hands which he held in his own, silent sobs shaking his shoulders. Thorin only felt numb. How could Frerin be dead? He was the youngest. The one most filled with life, and laughter. It had to be a mistake. He couldn’t be dead. Thorin had promised to protect him. He’d promised that already when their mother had died. Promised to protect Frerin and Dís both. He’d failed. And now Frerin was dead.  
  
Thorin fell to the ground as his knees would no longer hold him.  
  
“I am so sorry for your loss,” the Mage said quietly as he stopped a respectful distance away. Thorin ignored him. He might have saved them, but why hadn’t he saved Frerin?  
  
“And for yours as well,” the Mage added to Dwalin who glared at him, turning so the limp, broken form of Balin was mostly hidden behind the bulk of his own body.  
  
"He’s still breathing,” Dwalin growled. “If you can kill all those Darkspawn, you can heal him, can’t you?”  
  
"I could heal your brother’s wounds yes," the Mage said gently. "But he would still be as good as dead, because I do not have the ability to clear the taint that moves through his blood. There is only one cure, and that lies with the Grey Wardens. And they are beyond both your reach and mine.”  
  
“I’ll find another way,” Dwalin said hoarsely. “Heal him!”  
  
“No.” The Mage shook his head. “I will not. You know what will happen. You’ve seen it.”  
  
Dwalin bared his teeth. “Get out of my head.”  
  
The Mage paid him no mind. “The pallor comes first. The sunken eyes. Then one day he will be gone, away to join the Darkspawn wherever he can find them. And while you do not know what happens after that, trust me when I say that it’s a fate much worse than death.”  
  
“Shut up!” Dwalin roared. “Shut your lying mouth.”  
  
The shout had finally drawn Thorin’s attention away from Frerin, and he looked up at Dwalin who had tears were silently streaming down his face and into his beard. His face was twisted into a horrible mask of grief and rage, and he was still holding his brother’s unconscious form tightly in his arms.  
  
“I can ease his passing,” the Mage said quietly. “If you would allow me to do so.”

“You mean that you would _kill_ him,” Dwalin snapped. “ _No_.”  
  
“No matter what you do, he will die. And if he keeps bleeding all over you, perhaps you will join him,” the Mage snapped, his patience apparently at an end. “It’s a small wonder you’ve not contracted the taint yourself already.”  
  
“If my brother will die, I might as well-“  
  
“No,” Dís murmured hoarsely. “No,” she said again, stronger this time, and she stood up to her full height; which still looked so small compared to the Wizard. She swayed slightly before she found her balance once more.  
  
“Do you think that your brother would want you do die?” she asked, wiping at her wet cheeks. “You _shame_ him by thinking that he would.” She turned her head, looking down at Frerin, at Thráin hunched by his son’s side; his shoulders silently shaking, at Thorin, who quietly looked back at his sister with dry, haunted eyes.  
  
“What you need to do, what we need to do, is to live. And yes, it’s _hard_.” Dís’ voice broke and she lowered her head, her long dark hair falling forward to cover her face as it had long since escaped the neat braids she had made that morning, before the Darkspawn had come. “It’s so hard. But- but we have to do it. And live for them as well.”  
  
“He’s my brother!” Dwalin roared.  
  
“And Frerin is mine!” Dís yelled back. “And Frerin is _dead_! I didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye and now he is _dead_!”

“Dís,” Thorin murmured, reaching out his hand to touch her leg. “Sister.”

As if he was the one with magic, Thorin’s touch caused Dís to crumple. Her knees had no sooner hit the ground before Thorin had gathered her into his arms, tucking her head against his neck. Sobbing Dís fisted her hands in Thorin’s tunic and clung to her brother as if the world would disappear if she let go. Perhaps her world would.  
  
“Will you allow me?” the white-haired Mage asked again, holding out his wrinkled hand with the palm facing the ground.  
  
Dwalin hesitated, then he walked over to where the dry brown grass had found no dominion and gently laid his brother down on the stone.  
  
“He’d not want to die on dirt,” the bald Dwarf mumbled thickly as he arranged his brother’s arms to cross neatly over his chest, hands clasped together. “Bad enough we’re on the blasted surface.”

The Mage walked to stand beside him and then knelt down. He closed his eyes, and held out his hand, fingers spread widely apart.  
  
“There cannot be peace without an end,” the Mage murmured as he moved his hand over the broken body lying on the ground. Balin’s breaths, which had been shallow and strained, slowed and changed into something more natural sounding. Dís watched with big eyes, her hands still tightly clenched in the back of Thorin’s tunic.  
  
“And at the end, there is peace. The Stone will guide your spirit home, and you'll be met by those who came before you.”  
  
Balin sighed, a small happy sound, and he breathed no more.

“Now,” the Mage said with a sigh, wearily getting to his feet and brushing the dust from his robes. “There is a matter I would like to discuss with you. Namely our-”  
  
“Discuss-? You- _now_? Did you save our lives to have a _discussion_?” Thorin asked hoarsely. “My brother lies on the ground, not yet cold, and you wish for a _discussion_? Who _are_ you?”

 _Why didn’t you come sooner? Why is my brother dead? Why is_ anyone _’s brother dead?  
_  
“Your lives is exactly what I wanted to discuss,” the Mage said firmly. “And I have many names. To your kind, I am known as Tharkûn. Or I was. I have not walked your roads in many, many years.”

“I know that name,” Thráin said quietly, his voice scratchy and raw and his eyes red as he raised them from Frerin’s lifeless body. “’Many years’? Try _centuries_. You cannot be Tharkûn. Mage or not, no human lives for that long.”

“Then I must not be human, because I am Tharkûn,” the Mage said mildly.  
  
“And you just happened to be out for a walk in the mountains,” Dís asked, blinking to clear the remaining tears from her eyes.  
  
“My business is my own,” the Mage said mildly. “As much as yours is your own. But if I may be so bold, my time here grows short, and we should be off.”  
  
“ _We_?” Thorin asked. “You are going to Orzammar?”  
  
“No. That was what I wanted to speak to you about. I guessed that you were heading there, but I hope that you will reconsider.” The Mage’s expression was grave. “You will not survive that journey. And you cannot stay here.”  
  
“But you killed all the Darkspawn,” Dís said.  
  
“My dear child, there will be more of them.” Tharkûn shook his head. “There are in fact more just beyond the hills surrounding us. What has happened to your home isn’t an isolated event. The fifth Blight has begun. This was not even the start of it, just one of many fallouts.”

“Blight?” Thráin breathed. “What about Orzammar? Have they suffered the same fate?”

“No, the Darkspawn move through the Deep Roads far beneath Orzammar. They have not surfaced as they did in Erebor.”  
  
“Then why can’t we go to Orzammar?” Thráin demanded.  
  
“Because the path there is filled with the foul creatures, and I cannot go with you. My business takes me south.” Tharkûn let his gaze fall on them all, one by one, and his grey eyes were troubled. “If you come with me I can take you as far as Gwaren. It is a city on the south-eastern coast and-”  
  
“It was once a Dwarven outpost,” Thráin interrupted. “It is known to me. But why would we want to go there?”  
  
“Because I am offering to take you, and there is nowhere else for you to go.” Tharkûn gestured towards the dead Darkspawn. “There is no other nearby city that you can get to which will be safe. Thousands upon thousands of the tainted ones will be travelling from the Frostback Mountains to answer the call from the one who will lead them through this Blight.”  
  
“The Archdemon,” Thráin murmured and Tharkûn nodded.  
  
“Your kind held your own against the tainted ones during the First Blight, if at a high cost, and they will not march against you. But-“  
  
“What do you call what they have done now?” Dwalin demanded. “Erebor was overrun.”  
  
“Not by design. It was simply an easy way to get to the surface, but it will not be worth the risk for them to try and conquer Orzammar.” Tharkûn shook his head. “I do not think that Erebor is lost forever, but as long as the Blight will last, anyone would be foolish to try and reclaim it. And while Orzammar is untouched, the path from here to there is filled with death.”

“How is the Blight ended then?” Dís asked, crossing her arms. “What can we do?”  
  
“That is not your path, my child.” The Mage’s gaze grew distant. “You are all meant for something else. Another fate. This meeting was not one of chance.”

“Not of chance?” Thorin asked as he looked searchingly up into the Mage’s grey eyes as they flickered back and forth, as if reading a book invisible to the rest of them.  
  
“No.” The Mage blinked, and his pale eyes were clear once more. “No, it was not,” the man replied, meeting Thorin’s eyes evenly. “Nothing truly happens by chance after all. We all chose the paths we walk.”  
  
“Where is the choice my brother made then?” Thorin demanded. “Are you saying that he _chose_ to die? Or did you chose not to save him?”  
  
“You would _all_ be dead if I had not saved you,” the Mage reproached. “And you will end up dead if you do not listen to me. You can’t-”  
  
“Threats?” Thorin asked, eyes narrowing.  
  
Suddenly the sky grew dark and thunder rumbled. “You will listen to me Thorin son of Thráin,” the Mage rumbled. “And you will listen well.”  
  
“My brother never told you his name,” Dís said warily. “And neither did my father. And none of us have mentioned them. How is it that you know?”  
  
“ _Magic_ ,” Dwalin muttered disdainfully, and Thorin threw him a sharp glance. He did not like this Mage, this Tharkûn . But he would not stand for anyone insulting Dís.  
  
“ _How_ I know is not important,” the Mage said. “What is important is that you will die if you do not come with me as I leave. I do not have the time to follow you to Orzammar.”

“You would leave us even if that means that we die?” Thorin said. “Why save us at all then?”  
  
“Because now you _are_ alive. And you will remain that way if you stop being difficult and listen to me.”  
  
“I agree with him.” Dwalin nodded in Thorin’s direction. “That sounds like a threat to me.”  
  
“The stubbornness of Dwarves,” the Mage muttered. “I can’t believe I had forgotten about it. _Listen_ to me. If you wish to live, your best option is to go with me to Gwaren.”  
  
“The last Blight lasted 12 years.” Thráin shook his head. “How can we leave our home for that long?”  
  
“Because, and as I keep telling you, you have _no_ choice,” Tharkûn huffed, muttering something inaudible beneath his breath. “Are you coming with me, or are you not? I do not have the time to stand here and dawdle.”  
  
“We can’t leave Frerin like this,” Dís said softly. “I’m not leaving until he’s-“ her voice broke. “We can’t just leave him out in the open like this.”

The human’s eyes softened. “That I can take care of. If you will let me.” He turned to Dwalin. “And I offer the same to you as well. But I do need to leave, so please make up your minds quickly.”  
  
“Father, what do you think?” Thorin asked quietly.  
  
“I think that I do not want to see another child die today,” Thráin said, his voice strong but filled with grief. “In the end, there is no choice for me. We can’t stay.”  
  
Thorin clasped his father’s shoulder and gently touched their foreheads together. Dís wrapped her arms around both their waists and held on tightly, hiding her face against Thorin’s arm.  
  
The bald Dwarf looked to the still form of his brother and his jaw clenched, but though his eyes glittered, no more tears fell.

“We will come with you,” Thráin said, meeting the Mage’s gaze evenly. “And I would ask you that you do what you can to help my son find his way back to the Stone.”  
  
“This is your wish as well?” Tharkûn asked Dwalin, whose eyes were still locked on his brother’s body where it rested on the rocky ground. When it came the nod was almost imperceptible, but it still came.  
  
“Very well.”  
  
The Mage walked over to where Frerin was lying and crouched down beside him. His hands started glowing and Thorin braced himself. He expected something showy; along the lines of more thunder, or maybe Frerin suddenly bursting into flames. To burn him would have been a terrible thing but even so it would have been better than to leave him for the Darkspawn to defile.  
  
For a few long moments nothing happened. Then Dís gasped, pressing herself into Thorin’s side.

“Oh, that’s- I-“ She tugged on Thorin’s sleeve. “It’s almost like what I tried to do with the ogre. Only I couldn’t, not like that. The Stone didn’t like it.” Dís sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But she seems to not mind Frerin.”  
  
“Rest well, my son,” Thráin murmured. “It was not your time, but the Stone will welcome you even so.”  
  
At first Thorin thought that what the Mage was doing was simply to will a tomb into being over his brother’s body, but it only took another moment for him to realise that what was happening was something else entirely. Frerin was slowly turning _into_ stone. Though the Mage wasn’t turning him into a statue. It was almost as if… as if the stone beneath him rose up to embrace him at the same time he melted down into it. It was impossible for Thorin to find the words to describe it as it truly was, but it was the most profound thing he had ever witnessed. Amazing even with the heavy burden of grief that had settled on his shoulder when he knew that Frerin was lost.

When the Mage was done, there was no trace left of Thorin’s lively little brother, instead there was a smooth bulge of stone where his body had lain only moments before.  
  
“Watch over us brother,” Thorin whispered. “Help guide our path that we will have made you proud when next we meet.”  
  
“I forgive you for leaving us,” Dís promised, kneeling down to run her hand over the stone. “I’ll always love you, brother.”  
  
When Tharkûn knelt at Balin’s side Dwalin held up his hand. “A moment.”  
  
He knelt as well, bending down to press his forehead against his brother’s. Thorin couldn’t hear what was whispered, nor did he want to. It was clearly none of his business.  
  
At the end of the one-sided conversation, Dwalin straightened his back, but before he moved away he carefully removed a ring that his brother had been wearing on the middle finger of his left hand and slipped it onto his own finger.  
  
He murmured something again, still too softly for Thorin to hear, and then he rose back up on his feet and nodded to the Mage.  
  
Seeing the magic a second time did not make it less wondrous. Next to being returned to the Stone in Erebor, this had to be the best possible end. No one would be able to disturb their rest now, and they were truly one with the Stone. Dís was crying again, but it seemed that she didn’t even notice the tears falling from her eyes which were opened wide in wonder.  
  
“Now it is time for us to leave,” Tharkûn said as he too rose to his feet. “Please, do not be alarmed at what is about to happen. And wait here until I collect you.”  
  
“That’s the lest reassuring thing-“ Dwalin spat, but he hadn’t the time to go further .  
  
One moment, there had been a human Mage standing on the rocky ground. The next, a giant eagle had taken his place.

“By the Stone of my Ancestors,” Dwalin swore, taking a step back. He managed to trip on a small rock and cursed again as he crashed onto the ground.  
  
The eagle, _Tharkûn_ , screeched shrilly and beat its wings. They burst of air was powerful enough to almost bring the rest of them tumbling to the earth as well. Then it took flight and flew away up into the sky, leaving them all to stare dumbly after it. The Mage turned Eagle was not gone for long though. As it dove towards them Thorin reflexively took a step backwards.

Dís however, took a step forward. The eagle screeched again and the next Thorin knew it had snatched his sister and father up into its sharp talons.

Left on the ground Thorin and Dwalin looked at each other with helpless shock as the eagle flew away. But they didn’t have enough time to come to terms with what had happened before the it returned once more.  
  
When Thorin noticed that its claws were now empty his heart just about leapt out of his chest. Baring his teeth he snarled up at the soon to be dead bird, and that’s when he noticed the two small figures clinging to its back.  
  
The next moment he and Dwalin were also snatched away and as they flew away up into the sky Thorin’s stomach twisted in anxious knots. He wasn’t ill, but for quite a while it definitely seemed like a possibility.  
  
Once he’d gotten his breath back and realised that he wasn’t about to fall, he dared to look down at the ground below.  
  
It was _terrifying_ , for a multitude of reasons. Not only was the landscape below them so small that it seemed unreal, it was also flecked black with the Darkspawn.  
  
If the northern ranges of the mountains looked the same it would truly have been hopeless to try and get to Orzammar, Thorin realised.  
  
It would have been like running from a landslide or an earth-flow. Which meant that out of the thousands of Dwarves that had lived in Erebor, only a scattered few would remain after this day.  
  
The thought was a chilling one, and Thorin wanted to shout and rail at the Mage that they needed to go back and help as many as they could. Not a chance meeting he'd said? What did that even _mean_? And what business could he have in the south that was more important than saving lives? And why had he chosen to save _theirs_? Why hadn’t he come sooner…  
  
He hadn’t saved Frerin, and part of Thorin wanted to hate him for that. But he couldn’t because the Mage had saved Dís and their father, and they would all have died had the Mage not come, because Thorin would not have been able to save them. Just as he’d not been able to save Frerin.  
  
A tear fell from Thorin’s eye and was almost immediately brushed away by the strong wind.  
  
Dís had said that she forgave Frerin for leaving them, but would she forgive Thorin for getting him killed? For almost getting all of them killed. Would their father?  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Thorin whispered, words snatched away just as quickly as his tear had been. “I’m so sorry, little brother. For everything.”

He curled up in the cage made by the eagle’s claws and buried his face in his hands. When his shoulders started to shake the wind washed away the tears and the quiet sounds of sobbing both.

  
-  
  
“This is as far as I will take you,” Tharkûn said once they had been returned to the ground once more, and he again was back into his human form.  
  
“Gwaren is just to the east from here. This part of the forest should be safe enough, but do not linger after dark. I think you might understand why I won’t go into the city.” He gestured down at his robes and looked, it seemed to Thorin, meaningfully at Dís. Thorin scowled at him and curled his arm around Dís waist. Did he know that she had magic? And would he tell anyone?  
  
“Yes, I know your sister is a mage, but I’m hardly about to tell any Templars,” Tharkûn said drily. “If that’s what brought such an expression to your face.”  
  
Thorin’s scowl did not exactly lessen.  
  
“There are plenty of Mages who work with the Templars,” Thráin said quietly. “I’ve dealt with both kinds over the years. I’ve sold Lyrium to the Chantry,” he explained when the Mage gave him an inquisitive look. “But if a Mage _not_ escorted by Templars comes along… I’ve not turned them down either.”  
  
“I see,” Tharkûn said. “Perhaps- Well, never mind about that now. I take my leave from you. I think... I think we will meet again one day.”  
  
This time when the Mage transformed he turned into a white horse, and the creature bowed his head to them before disappearing into the thick forest that surrounded the clearing they had landed in.  
  
“Do you think I could learn that?” Dís said longingly. “Maybe if I start with something small, like a nug?”  
  
“I hope not,” Thráin said firmly. “Can’t be healthy to spend your life being something you’re not.”  
  
“And speaking of,” Thorin said apologetically.  
  
“I know,” Dís said. “Of course I know. I’m not about to tell anyone about my magic when we get to Gwaren.”  
  
“You will keep quiet about it as well,” Thorin told Dwain, his tone of voice leaving no question about what would happen if he didn’t. It was the first time he’d spoken to a noble like that, but compared to Dís’ safety that mattered little.  
  
The bald Dwarf merely snorted. “Telling someone would be a fine way to repay you both for saving my life. And even if I did, no one would believe me. But-“ he added when Thorin’s eyes narrowed. “You have by word. Dwalin Fundinson, of the house of Durin, at your service.” He bowed, and a little stunned, Thorin only remembered to bow back after Thráin had pointedly cleared his throat.  
  
“Thorin, son of Thráin, at yours.”  
  
“And of course at yours as well, lady,” Dwalin added and bowed to Dís who snorted most unladylike.  
  
“Dís,” Thráin scolded.  
  
“I’m sorry father, but I’m not a lady.”  
  
“Your mother would be happy if you pretended to be one, so at least try it for her sake.”  
  
“Did she-“ Dwalin’s tone was carefully neutral. “Was she lost today as well?”  
  
“No,” Thráin said, shaking his head. “No, we lost her many years ago.”  
  
For a moment they stood in silence, united in their grief of the lives lost so much more recently.  
  
“You saved my life,” Dwalin’s jaw clenched. “And tried to save my brother’s, I would like to offer you my help now.”  
  
Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“If the Darkspawn came to Erebor, they can come to Gwaren,” Dwalin said shortly. “My father told me that the Deep Roads that stretches beneath Gwaren were opened again after the last Blight. And he in turn got this information from the King.”  
  
“Then why did you not say anything before?” Thráin wanted to know. “We will be no safer here.”  
  
“It is not certain that they will come this way,” Dwalin said. “Besides, what other choice did we have since the Mage would not take us anywhere else? But I never intended to stay, and now I would offer you to come with me.”  
  
“And where would you go?” Thorin asked. “Did you not see what I saw from the air? The mountains were covered in the filthy creatures, as were the Wilds. It won’t be possible to reach Orzammar-“  
  
Dwalin was shaking his head. “I know.” He cast an uneasy glance up at the sky. “I know. And if the Blight continues there will be no safe place in the whole of Ferelden.”  
  
“Then what do you suggest?” Thráin asked.  
  
“If Ferelden is not safe then we might as well leave it,” Dwalin explained. “Many ships leave Gwaren, some go to the Free Marches. I have cousins in Kirkwall.”  
  
“ _You_ have cousins in the Free Marches?” Thráin asked incredulously. “But you’re a noble, there are no thaigs left in the Free Marches.”  
  
“Our- my house has never been very good at it. Being a noble I mean. Most of us living- who lived in Erebor aren’t. Weren’t.” A fierce look entered the blue-grey eyes. “The sun take those cursed Darkspawn,” he spat. “I likely have no more kin here, except very distant relations in Orzammar. Surface or not, ocean or not, I’m going to Kirkwall to the rest of my family. I’ll pay your way if you would like to join me.”  
  
“Who are your cousins?” Thráin asked, not managing to cover the urprise sneaking into his voice. A noble with cousins who lived on the surface? He’d never heard of such a thing before.  
  
“Óin and Glóin, merchants, like yourself,” Dwalin replied. “Their mother was from that caste, they followed in her footsteps after their father died. Their mother was Gimala, daughter of Gress.”

“Yes, I remember Gimala,” Thráin said. “A backbone of steel that one, but a tongue like silver and hair like newly beaten copper. She married a noble?”

“Apparently so,” Dwalin said shortly. “You think we can continue this discussion as we walk or when we arrive to Gwaren? I’d prefer not to stand here any longer than I have to. All the green is unsettling.”  
  
“Is this your first time on the surface?” Dís asked curiously as they began to head east.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“You’re handling it very well then,” Thráin praised. “This one-“ he pointed clasped his hand to Thorin's shoulder. “-thought that he’d fall up into the sky and clung to the closest rock the first time he left Erebor.”  
  
“That’s nothing compared to what-“ Thorin bit his tongue. “What Frerin did...”  
  
“We have to talk about them,” Dwalin said gruffly. “Keep their memories alive. Especially now.”  
  
“The Darkspawn can’t destroy the Memories, can they?” Dís asked Thráin. “The archives would mean nothing to them. Surely they’ll leave them alone?”  
  
“I don’t know, little one,” Thráin said tiredly. “I don’t know. But they can’t take the memories that are in our hearts and our minds. Those we will keep until the day we join our loved ones in the Stone.”  
  
-  
  
When the walls of Gwaren loomed a few hundred feet away and Dwalin turned to face Thorin and the others.  
  
“Have you already decided?”  
  
Thorin looked at Thráin and Dís. His sister merely shrugged. “I will go wherever you go. I’ll not have us separated now.” She bit her lip. “There’ll always be stone to find beneath our feet, so I don’t feel that we would be leaving Frerin. He is with mother now.”  
  
“This is not the life I had intended for you,” Thráin sighed. “Your mother would be very cross with me. And rightly so. Getting Frerin killed-“

“Father, no,” Thorin protested. “It was not by any fault of yours.”  
  
“I am responsible for you-“  
  
“It was my fault,” Dís said in a small voice. “You saw what Tharkûn could do. If I had practiced more, I could have saved him. I could have killed all those Darkspawn-”  
  
“ _No_ ,” Thorin said sharply.

“It’s the _Darkspawn’s_ fault,” Dwalin interrupted. “Blame them, as they’re the ones who killed your brother and mine.” His face grew dark. “I’d stay and fight but what good would that do when I am one and they number in thousands, if not hundreds of thousands. Balin would shout at me and call me more stupid than a Deep Mushroom if I stayed.” He looked at them, his gaze serious.  
  
“Ships sail both ways. Kirkwall would not be forever. Or if you do not want to join me-” Dwalin reached inside his armour and pulled out a purse that he shook, producing the unmistakable sound of gold clinking against gold. “Let me help you make a life here.”  
  
When Thráin looked questioningly at Thorin the younger sighed. “It would be safer not to walk the same surface as the Darkspawn. But I do not like the idea of travelling across the ocean.”  
  
“Can’t be worse than flying,” Dwalin muttered darkly. “Dwarves are _not_ meant to fly.”  
  
“I guess we’ll find out just what we are meant for,” Thráin said, looking at Gwaren and at the pale blue slice of the sea that was visible to the right of the tall stone walls.  
  
Thorin followed his father’s gaze and wrapped his arm around his sisters’ shoulders. She tucked hers around his waist, squeezing hard enough to be uncomfortable, but Thorin welcomed the pain as it proved that his sister was still with him.

Come what may, he’d not let anyone, or anything, on Thedas separate him from what was left of his family. The whole of Thedas would burn before he let that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Stone](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/The_Stone)
> 
>  
> 
> [Memories](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Memories)


	5. Present

“ _Tharkûn_?” the Seeker shook her head. “Do you really think that I will believe you if you say that the Wizard of the Wilds saved them? He is but a myth.”  
  
“I am only telling you what I know,” Ori said mildly. “You asked me for the truth. This is the truth I know.”  
  
The Seeker was quiet for a few long moments. Long enough that Ori had time to consider all the terrible things that the human could be considering doing to her if she believed she was getting fed a lie.  
  
“There have been other tales,” the Seeker said slowly. “The Warden Commander claimed that she had met him in the Korcari Wilds. It was after the Battle of Ostagar. Do you know exactly when Oakenshield and the others encountered him?”  
  
Ori anxiously gnawed on her lip as she tried to make sense of the differences between the human and Dwarven calendars. Thorin had been going by the latter whereas she had been using the other. “About a week before the battle.”  
  
“Then he could have-“ Ioreth fell silent once more. “Was this the end of the supposed involvement of the Wizard?”  
  
“As far as I know.”  
  
“Continue then. Tell me, what happened next.” Her voice acquired a certain mocking note. “Did they fly to Kirkwall on a the back of Dragon?”  
  
Ori looked down at the book in her lap, and then back up at the Seeker. “ _Thorin_ told me the part of Tharkûn turning into an eagle. And I told you, I’m not making this up.”  
  
“Good,” the Seeker said. “Then continue.”  
  
Ori huffed slightly but knew better than to argue.  
  
“In Gwaren they took ship and sailed north across the Waking Sea, to Kirkwall. Their passage was troubled by storms, but after two weeks they sailed through the black cliffs and they were here, in the city of chains, the city of Dragons.”  
  
“Dragons after all?”  
  
“It is the crest of Kirkwall,” Ori said, annoyed with the interrupted as she’d just begun to get a proper rhythm going again. “Back when Kirkwall was still a centre for the Tevinter slave trade. The carving of a Dragon was etched into hundreds of walls all around Kirkwall, bidding the people to stand up to the slavers and break their chains.”  
  
“Why a Dragon?”  
  
Ori cast the Seeker a suspicious look. She wasn’t entirely sure, but shouldn’t the story of Kirkwall already be known to someone coming to investigate what had happened here. Was this a test of some sort? But what reason would she have to lie about something that everyone already knew.  
  
“A better question would be, why not a Dragon? If you had to pick something to symbolise power and freedom, why then not a Dragon? Dragons have always been hunted and killed, but they keep coming _back_. We are even living in the Dragon _Age_ now.” Ori raised her chin defiantly. “There have always been rebellions in Kirkwall. The city is built on the bones of those abused and oppressed by their masters, be that the Tevinter slavers, the Qunari, the Orlesians, the _Chantry_ -”  
  
“Continue with the story, little one,” Ioreth said, crossing her arms.  
  
“I wasn’t the one who interrupted me,” Ori said before she could think better of it. Dori was going to _kill_ her if she didn’t ended up getting herself killed before then. “Right, so Thorin, Dís, Thráin and Dwalin arrived to Kirkwall after leaving behind everything known to them. But their trials would not end there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually I will probably tell the story of the Warden Commander in this crossover universe. Like this one, it will follow Dragon Age canon to a point... and then it will split, because different characters will naturally make different choices.
> 
> [The Grey Wardens](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Grey_Wardens)


	6. Chapter Three – Acts of Mercy

Getting passage had been easy after Dwalin had offered a gold coin to anyone who would take them to Kirkwall, but the journey itself was anything but easy.  
  
Gold could not calm the storms on the Waking Sea, and one by one they succumbed to seasickness; which together with their grief was almost enough to make a leap into the sea seem as a valid course of action. But even so, even if they didn’t know it; and certainly didn’t feel like it, they were lucky.  
  
They’d gotten to Gwaren just as the news of the Darkspawn had begun to spread, but before the brunt of the desperation had. When Thorin and the others left, they were amongst the first who did so, but they were certainly not the last.  
  
It would not be until after the Battle of Ostagar and the death of all but three of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, as well as the death of Queen Gilraen, that panic and fear would drive scores of people to seek passage to the Free Marches. Many of them would flock to Gwaren, and ship upon ship would leave packed to the brim with those who had lost everything, or those who feared that they would.  
  
-  
  
As their ship began the passage between the black cliffs that marked their arrival to Kirkwall, Thorin and Dwalin both stood up on the upper deck, staring up at the colossal bronze statues flanking each side of the channel. The ship’s railings were just low enough for them to peer out over, and Thorin craned his neck to look at one of the statues as they sailed by.  
  
All the statues were humans hunched over, in pain or grief, or possibly fear – it was impossible to tell as their faces were always hidden in their hands.

“What’s the point of making statues of people weeping,” Dwalin muttered. “Statues should be to remember greatness, not whatever this is.”  
  
“They were made by the _Magisters_ , Master Dwarf!” a sailor sitting nearby informed them, not looking up from his work of patching a sail. “You’ll find more like them in the Gallows. They’re not as big, but their purpose were the same, and that purpose was not to inspire greatness, quite the opposite.”  
  
“The Magisters?” Thorin questioned. “You mean the Tevinter Mages?”  
  
Much of Orzammar’s Lyrium was sold to the Tevinter Empire, whereas most of Erebor’s went to the Ferelden Chantry. It was simply a practical way to divide the business but it also meant that Thorin only very rarely had dealt with any Mage that was not in any way associated with the Chantry. Mages in Ferelden were not allowed to leave the Circle of Magi which became their home as soon as they were revealed to be Mages.  
  
Thorin knew little of the Tevinters, except for how they didn’t think magic was something to be feared. The Chantry on the other hand must fear it, why else make prisoners of the Mages and hunt the ones who left with a single minded fervour.  
  
“Aye,” the sailor nodded. “Though I guess it’s wrong of me to say that _they_ were the ones who made them. Their slaves made them on their bidding, to serve as a message to all other slaves who came here. And there were thousands upon thousands upon thousands of them. The slaves I mean, not the statues. I heard that there might even have been as much as a _million_ slaves in Kirkwall, all at once!”  
  
“You don’t know ‘ow much a million even is, Deren,” another sailor snorted as he walked by.  
  
“It’s how many times I fucked your sister.”  
  
“I hope she was better than your mum.”  
  
Thorin and Dwalin exchanged looks of mute agreement concerning human idiocy.  
  
“Never you mind that chump, Master Dwarves,” the sailor huffed. “But if you don’t already know it, let me tell you that the Gallows certainly deserved that name. They'd like making examples of slaves not doing as they were told. I’d not be surprised if the stone there was red instead of black. Not a pretty history, not at all. If you ask me, the Viscount should have had the statues removed a long time ago and not leave them here to bring people down.”  
  
“You’re a damned idiot,” a third sailor said, and Deren’s brow furrowed in anger at the insult. His fellow sailor paid him no mind.  
  
“Like the Viscount would remove the way to control who comes in and out of the city. Then he’d not be able to tax the pants off our arses each time we come here.” The sailor shook his head when he noted Thorin’s uncomprehending glance up at the statues. “When we pass the lighthouse there’s a final pair of statues, holdin’ chains. Between them statues and the lighthouse the viscount can order a massive bloody chain net to be raised, stopping all ships from getting in and out of Kirkwall.” The sailor’s face curled up in a sneer. “So it’s either do as the bastard says or sail to Ostwick and pretend that half the ships there aren’t full of slaves.”  
  
“He could remove all but those two then,” Deren said sullenly. “That way he could still fleece the ships, well, all except the Orlesians. Doesn’t dare to get those now do he.”  
  
“Yeah if it’d not cost him barrels of gold to get rid of ‘em, I’m sure he would. You’re so fucking stupid thinking anyone like him would do something without-”  
  
The two continued to bicker about what this Viscount should or shouldn’t do and Thorin went back to gazing at the statues.  
  
“I can’t wait to get off this cursed bit of wood,” Dwalin muttered darkly. “This way of travelling… If I never have to do it again, I’ll be glad. It might even be worse than flying, at least that was quick.”  
  
“You don’t want to return to Erebor then?” Thorin jested. “Because it’ll be a long walk.”  
  
“I don’t honestly know if I want to return,” Dwalin said, and Thorin turned to stare at the other Dwarf in shock.  
  
“It’s our _home_.”  
  
“Balin-“ Dwalin’s jaw clenched. “If it’d not been for my brother, I likely would have left already. Thorin, since we lost the Deep Roads to the Darkspawn, what life have we had? Even before this our people have not been able to travel freely in generations.”  
  
“You’re a noble,” Thorin said pointedly. “I’d not think you’d be the one to complain about the quality of life. I’ve got no reason to complain either, but-“  
  
“It’s not about what we have on the dinner table or not,” Dwalin said. “Or what we wear. What we sleep in at night. It’s about our entire fucking existence. The Stone-“ The bald Dwarf sighed and met Thorin’s determined look. “When we lost the Deep Roads, we lost part of ourselves. We’ve trapped ourselves like nugs in a cage, not daring to go up on the surface, not daring to go into the Deep Roads. Dozens of thaigs are lost, likely forever. And despite what that Wizard said, Erebor might be another one to add to that list.”  
  
“I refuse to believe that,” Thorin said. “We _will_ reclaim our home.”  
  
“And what sort of home is it then?” Dwalin asked. “Less babes are born each year, probably due to the taint from the damned Darkspawn creeping in somehow. That’s what the healers say at least. If Erebor is lost-“  
  
“It’s _not_.”  
  
“Then that leaves only Orzammar in the whole of Ferelden. One thaig. And apart from that? Kal-Sharok beneath the Hunterhorns, and the Dwarves living with the Tevinters. In addition to a mere handful of smaller thaigs which are one attack away from being gobbled up by the Darkspawn.” Dwalin shook his head. “I’ll not die like a rat in a corner. The Stone is not fickle enough to forget me if I walk above it for a while.”  
  
“Why did your cousins leave Erebor?” Thorin asked. “They’re merchants, but- did  they share your views?”  
  
“In a way.” Dwalin sighed. “I’m not saying it’s a terrible thing, to be born into the noble caste. But it’s- I’ve never thought it’s for me. Balin… Balin was good at politics. He could tell when someone was lying, lie right back to them if he needed. He wanted to help me find my place. Don’t think he could have though.”  
  
“You’ve not talked about any other family,” Thorin said carefully. “A wife, children. Does that mean that you had none?”  
  
“Not for lack of trying on the noble hunters’ part,” Dwalin said bitterly. “Not that I blame the lasses. Like I said, it’s hardly a terrible thing to be born into the noble caste, and I don’t definitely don’t envy them thinking that they have to sell themselves for a chance to have a son. But I’ll not touch them. They’re not asking because they want to. And I never found anyone else. Balin had no children either.” When Thorin didn’t say anything Dwalin snorted. “No doubt there are people who think we’re the mad ones. It’s our _duty_ , to try and have children.”  
  
“I don’t think that,” Thorin said slowly. “To take someone who is not really willing, that’s a terrible thing, even if they walk into your bed on their own feet.”  
  
“At least you’ll not have to wonder if your lovers only wish to have your sons,” Dwalin snorted. “Never heard of a male having little ones. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Dwalin added when Thorin’s face blanked. “I don’t _care_. I’ve seen you looking, and while you’re a pretty one you’re not for me. Just don’t crawl into my bed and we won’t have a problem.”  
  
To his horror Thorin felt a flush of heat spread over his cheeks.  
  
Dwalin was well-built with broad shoulders and powerful chest, and he had surprisingly kind eyes and was definitely pleasant to be around, for a noble anyway. Thorin liked him. But it didn’t go beyond that and a general appreciation for his form. Still, to have been caught at it was most definitely embarrassing. And to be caught looking under circumstances like this…  
  
“That you bothered to look even with the damned seasickness in fresh memory, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a sign that you’re deranged,” Dwalin said wryly. “I’m sure that the image I presented when I spewed in a bucket wasn’t particularly pleasant.”  
  
“Do stop talking,” Thorin murmured. “I can’t swim and I’d hate to throw myself overboard when we are so close to getting off this ship and onto dry land.”  
  
Dwalin snorted and slapped Thorin on the back. “I do like you, Thorin. You and your sister are bloody refreshing to be around after all those stuffy nobles.” The bald Dwarf sobered somewhat. “If only we could have met under better circumstances.”  
  
“If we had, then it would not have been anything like this,” Thorin said with a small shrug. “My family is not particularly esteemed since we occasionally leave Erebor to trade with the Chantry. I’d not try to speak to a noble, getting snubbed is not particularly entertaining.”  
  
“Yeah, bloody caste system.” Dwalin waved his hand. “I tell you, it’s a fucking mess.”  
  
“Are you fighting?” Dís asked as she walked up to stand between them. “If so, stop it immediately.”  
  
“How’s father?” Thorin asked, eager for a change in subject, and also worried about his father.  
  
Dís sighed. “Not worse at least. I think he has a fever and I don’t like his cough.”  
  
“We’ll get someone to look at him in Kirkwall,” Dwalin promised.  
  
“You don’t need to do that,” Thorin said. “We-“  
  
“I’m the one with the cousins who might actually know a healer.” Dwalin shrugged one shoulder. “As I said, I’m at your service. If there’s something I can do for you, I’ll do it.”  
  
“Thank you,” Dís said when Thorin was about to protest again. “We’re very grateful.”  
  
Dwalin grunted something unintelligible and so did Thorin when Dís elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up, brother dear, unless you planned on thanking him. I’m not going to let father suffer because you’re being stubborn. You’ve enough pride to lose some, and still have plenty left.”  
  
When Dwalin hid a snicker by coughing Thorin turned his glare from Dís to him.

“What’s with the horrible statues?” Dís asked beneath her next breath. “They look like they’re in pain.”  
  
“Tevinter slavers ordered them built,” Dwalin said shortly, nodding his head towards the sailor who had told them. “To scare slaves. And probably anyone else who came here.”  
  
“Oh,” Dís said with a small voice. “That’s not very nice.”  
  
“That’s Tevinter Mages for you, little Mistress Dwarf!” The same sailor as before, Deren, had overheard her. “I know your kind have some business with them, but I’d watch your back. You can’t trust the kind of people who let Mages be in charge.”  
  
Dís shrank back against Thorin’s side and he tucked her close, glaring over her head at the sailor. Of course the man didn’t know that Dís had magic, and Thorin wasn’t fool enough to enlighten him, but that didn’t stop the urge to throw him into the damned sea.  
  
“No need to be afraid, lil’ lady,” another sailor added. “In Kirkwall they keep all the Mages shut up in the Gallows these days. They’re not going to turn you into a frog.”  
  
Dís smiled faintly at him, pressing closer to Thorin’s side. “They’d hate me,” she whispered into his shoulder. “If they knew.”  
  
Thorin didn’t reply except to tighten his grip around her.  
  
-  
  
There were more of the statues at the docks. And they all seemed to have about as good of a time as their larger brethren had.  
  
“This is part of the Gallows then?” Thorin asked deckhand as he passed by with a coil of rope.  
  
“Just beyond the city gates,” the man nodded. “If you continue down the dock, there’s only the warehouses and such. So you’ll need to pass through the Gallows’ courtyard to get into the city. But no worries, no matter what some of the others might have told you, they only keep Mages in the Gallows these days, and for their own protection. No one’s going to lock you up in there. If you do something wrong you’ll end up in the dungeons in the Viscount’s Keep.” The man lifted his hand and pointed to a large looming fortress on a cliff high above them. "That'd be it. Up in Hightown."  
  
“How can locking someone up be for their protection?” Thorin asked. "The Mages I mean."  
  
The books that they managed to find on Mages had been vague at best. And there hadn’t really been any good explanation _why_ the Chantry thought created the Circles around Thedas was a necessary thing, and the humans he’d been able to ask during his trips to the surface had mumbled nonsense about demons and how magic was evil. Dís had magic, but she certainly wasn’t evil. Surely that belief couldn't be the whole truth.  
  
“They need to learn,” the deckhand said with a shrug. “I’ve got a cousin who’s a Mage you see, and she almost burnt down the house when she learnt that she was a Mage. It was all fine in the end, but imagine having her on a ship!”  
  
“Thorin we’re leaving now!” Dís called from further along the dockside. “Are you coming or are you going to become a sailor and smell like fish the rest of your life. No offence, Master Seafarers!”  
  
The deckhand snorted out a laugh. “That sister of yours is certainly a special lil’ lady.”  
  
“Indeed,” Thorin said quietly.  
  
-  
  
“What do you mean we can’t get into the city!” Dwalin growled.  
  
The guard sniffed and stared down his nose at him. “You’re not the first refugees coming from Ferelden. Got a boat from Highever just yesterday. We’ve got plenty of poor of our own without adding you lot into it. Go back home before more of you come, tell them not to bother.”  
  
Thorin looked disbelievingly at the guard. While it was obviously that their clothes had been worn much too long without proper care or washing it would be hard to miss the rich blue colour of Dwalin’s tunic; even stained as it was, or the quality of his armour. The very fact that he had armour at all should have been enough to indicate that this wasn’t just any random beggar. But apparently all this guard could see was the dirt and stains of running from Darkspawn and then the weeks of not having any change of clothes.  
  
“Who is your superior?” Dwalin said tightly, frown deepening when Thráin began to cough. It was the same wet cough as he’d been plagued with for almost the entirety of their trip, and it made the guard wrinkle his nose and sniff again.  
  
“Trying to bully your way through won’t work,” he sneered. “Especially if that one’s sick. We don’t need any of that here either.”  
  
“ _Who_ do you report to?” Dwalin insisted.  
  
“Let’s just go up to the gates,” Dís said. “Maybe someone up there will be more reasonable.”  
  
“I’ll not have you bother the Captain,” the guard protested, which meant that the captain was probably up at the gates and Thorin and Dís exchanged a look. “You will stay here. Or better, go back to Ferelden.”

“Listen to me your insignificant little _twit_.” The guard’s face darkened with annoyance at Dwalin’s words, but the Dwarf did not let that stop him. “If you won’t let us in because we’re _poor_ , then I guess this isn’t something you’re interested in?”  
  
He held up two silvers, turning them so that they gleamed in the sunlight.

“Can’t say they’re very interesting to me either.” With a shrug Dwalin let the coins fall to the ground. One bounced its way over the stone slab covered ground and came to rest in a puddle of grimy water. “But if you change your mind, you’re welcome to them.” Dwalin nodded to the others. “Now we’ll go to the gate. I’m sure this one here is too busy to stop us.”  
  
“That probably wasn’t very wise,” Dís murmured as they left.  
  
“Yeah, well as I’ve told your brother, politics have never interested me,” Dwalin muttered.  
  
“You could have just given him the coins.”

“He was a _twit_.”  
  
-  
  
 _“-all be allowed to go back to-“  
  
“But we don’t want to go back, we want to get inside the city.”_  
  
“Looks like we’re not the only ones with this quest,” Dís murmured.  
  
“Let us through you flaming blighter!” a large dark-haired man roared at a taller blond man wearing similar armour to the guard down at the docks. “We’ve not come here to be turned back. We’ve fought the Darkspawn! We’re heroes!”  
  
“Deserters more like it,” the blond said firmly. “You’re army men by the looks of you, and I can’t imagine that the army lacks for things to do in Ferelden.”  
  
“We paid good coin to get here,” another man argued.  
  
“I don’t see how that is my problem,” the guard said.  
  
“We can certainly make it your problem,” the dark-haired man growled.

“If I let you in _then_ you’ll be my problem,” the guard said calmly. “If I have to pick between having to deal with you and dealing with Knight-Commander Denethor, then I’ll definitely pick you. We’re not letting any refugees in. Not now, and I can’t say if that’ll change.”  
  
“You the guard captain?” Dwalin asked, and the guard looked their way and nodded.  
  
“Wonderful, more Fereldans I take it?” he asked with a sigh.  
  
“I’ve got family in the city,” Dwalin said shortly. “And coin to make it worth your while if you let us in.”  
  
“I very much doubt that,” the captain said and shook his head. “I’ve heard claims about family a hundred times by now. The Viscount and Knight-Commander have both ordered the city to be closed. We’re not-”  
  
“Then send for my cousins, and we’ll have a discussion.” Dwalin held up his pouch of coins and shook it, producing a clinking noise as well as an interested look in the human’s eyes.  
  
“Hey now,” one of the other men protested upon noticing that look. “You can’t be letting them in if you won’t let us in. They’re _Dwarves_! You going to side with them over your own kind?”  
  
“You’re no more my kind than they are. And if they’ve got coin to bring into the city, and family here, they’re allowed in,” the Captain said. “We’re not stopping trade, just the people who’ll end up on the streets in Lowtown before the week is over.”  
  
“But it took _all_ our coin just to get here!”  
  
“That’s not my problem. Your family, give me a name,” he added, looking down at Dwalin. “I’m guessing they’re Dwarves, like yourself, we don’t have that many Dwarves in Kirkwall.”  
  
“Óin and Glóin,” Dwalin said. “Merchants.”  
  
“Yes, I know of them,” the captain said slowly. “But I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Master Dwarf.”  
  
“I have to say the same for you,” one of the humans growled, drawing his blade. “Enough talking. Let us the fuck inside or you’ll be seeing your insides on the outside.”  
  
“Don’t do _anything_ ,” Thorin hissed to Dís. “I mean it.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
“If you kill me you still won’t get inside Kirkwall,” the Captain said calmly. “There’s four of you, I’ve got four _dozen_ men between the docks and here. Go back to your ship-“  
  
“The ship left!”  
  
“Then go back to the docks and find another one. If you’ve no more coin then find someone who will hire you as crew. You’re not going to get inside the city. If you kill me, you’re only going to end up dead. Did you really escape the Blight to get thrown from the docks and end up like fish food?”  
  
The man hesitated and the guard captain nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps the Viscount and Knight-Commander will change their minds later. If you’re dead, that’s hardly going to do you any good.”  
  
Teeth bared in a snarl, the man returned his sword to its sheathe. “I’ll not forget this. I’ll have you pay.”  
  
The captain nodded. “I’m sure. Back to the docks now.”  
  
As the men turned and started walking back down the stairs, the Captain raised his hand and whistled sharply. He lowered four fingers to point at the departing men and the next moment, all four men had arrows sticking out of their necks.  
  
Thorin took a step backwards, mind flashing back to Frerin and the gurgling sound his brother had made as the Darkspawn arrow had lodged in his throat. The blood.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” the Guard Captain said, as the four fell to the ground. “But when no one would have hired them they would have come back and tried again. Been more desperate. People would have gotten hurt.”  
  
“They still seem to have gotten hurt,” Thráin said weakly, his face pale with more than just the illness that plagued him. “Shouldn’t the Blight bring us closer together? We should not kill each other.”  
  
“If I had let them go, the blood from those they would have killed would have been on my hands,” the Captain said grimly. “You could see it in their eyes, they were not truly desperate yet, but before the Viscount and Knight-Commander changed their minds, they would be. Desperate men do desperate things.”  
  
“Who is this Knight-Commander?” Dwalin asked. “The Viscount is in charge of the city, yes? So who is this other one?”  
  
“Knight-Commander Denethor commands the Templars in Kirkwall,” the Captain said shortly.  
  
“The City Guard answers to Templars?” Thorin asked. He’d bitten the inside of his cheek, and the taste of his blood was sweet and metallic, and almost enough to make him throw up.  
  
“The City Guard answers to the Viscount. Enough.” The man waved his hand dismissively.” We should settle this as quickly as possible before others like them come.”  
  
“You said you had ill news,” Dwalin said tightly. “Tell me.”  
  
“One of your cousins are dead,” the Captain said bluntly. “I’m not sure which one, I’m sorry. It happened a few years ago. They were exploring the Deep Roads beneath the city and it did not go as planned.”  
  
Dwalin’s face lost all traces of emotion, and Thorin’s heart clenched with sympathy.  
  
“I can send for-“ the Captain hesitated. “Well, the remaining one. Someone will find him and bring him here. Your names?”  
  
“He is Dwalin,” Thráin said, when no one else would speak. “And we will wait here.”  
  
“I am Captain Ceorl,” the man said and nodded. “And again, my apologies for the scene just now.”  
  
He turned and walked up the stairs to speak to one of his men, two others already busy dragging the corpses of the four men away from the staircase.  
  
Thorin flinched when Dís touched his arm.  
  
“It’ll be all right, Thorin,” she whispered. “It’ll be all right.”  
  
At that moment Thráin began to cough once more. Thorin swallowed more spit mixed with blood, along with the words he would not say to his sister. They had to have hope.  
  
-  
  
“Cousin,” a redheaded Dwarf exclaimed as he rushed out from a smaller doorway to the side of the city gates. “Dwalin. You’re here.”  
  
Dwalin didn’t say anything, but he clutched the shorter Dwarf tightly as the two embraced, hiding his face in bushy red hair.  
  
“Óin?” Dwalin asked as they pulled back, and the shorter Dwarf shook his head.  
  
“Balin?” he asked.  
  
Dwalin’s hands clenched into fists. “He- the Darkspawn. He didn’t make it.”  
  
The redhead cursed and spat on the ground. “They got Óin too. We shouldn’t have- but later. There’ll be time for that later.” Glóin rested his hands on Dwalin’s shoulders. “They’ve gone to the Stone. The Stone will keep them.”  
  
“The Stone preserve them,” Dwalin murmured. “Cousin I am _glad_ you are here.”  
  
“I would be gladder if I did not suspect why _you_ were here,” Glóin said forlornly. “But despite that I must ask: Erebor?”  
  
“Lost. For now.” Dwalin glanced at Thorin. “But perhaps not forever.”  
  
“Not forever,” Thorin agreed. He inclined his head slightly in Glóin's direction. “I am Thorin, son of Thráin-“ he gestured to his father “- and brother to Dís.” -towards his sister.  
  
“They have also suffered loss,” Dwalin said gravely. “A son and brother, Frerin.”  
  
“The Stone will keep him,” Glóin said and bowed his head. “Now come, let’s not dwell here. I invite you all to my home, such as it may be. For now, your journey has ended. Welcome to Kirkwall.”

-

Later Thorin would learn his way around Kirkwall, as well as he’d ever known Erebor, but he would remember very little of what he saw as Glóin led them towards his home.  
  
The courtyard in front of the Gallows were less grim than Thorin might have expected, being filled with brightly coloured stalls and merchants peddling their wares. But surrounding the square were dozens of the bronze statues, all appearing to be in pain. These didn’t all look the same, some didn’t even have their hands covering their faces, but Thorin almost wished that they had because they were all screaming.  
  
Looking across the square Thorin saw a hulking building at the top of a several sets of wide stairs, and immediately knew it to be the Gallows. It exuded animosity and he hurried his steps until he walked close to Dís once more, walking at the left side of her as if to shield her from the eyes of anyone who could be watching from inside the former prison.  
  
-  
  
Glóin’s home was in a part of the city called Lowtown, but the redhead took pride in letting them know that it was just on the edge of Hightown. The staircases to that part of the city could be found only a few hundred feet away. That meant nothing to Thorin and the others, but Dís smiled at Glóin even so and thanked him for his hospitality.  
  
Glóin’s house was… comfortable. Yes, that was the best word for it. It had perhaps seen better days, but the rooms were clean and welcoming, and it was easy to ignore how the colour on the walls was faded and how the furniture were all a little more than worn.

“He needs a healer,” Dwalin said to Glóin as they all settled down in the sitting room, and Glóin had pressed cups of tea into their hands. The bald Dwarf nodded his head at Thráin who took a sip of his tea and immediately started coughing. “The trip on the damned piece of wood was not good for his lungs.”  
  
“Tomorrow,” Glóin nodded. “It’ll be dark soon. The best healer I know of lives in Darktown, you don’t go to that place at night if you can help it. Maybe Nori could get him to come here, but I doubt it… And this is not a good time to owe that girl favours anyway…”  
  
“Nori?” Dwalin asked. “And who’s ‘him’? The healer?”  
  
“He is,” Glóin nodded. “Name’s Bilbo. He’s… well, he’ll fix you up right,” he said to Thráin. “And Nori, Nori is a constant thorn in my side. Let’s leave it at that. I’m sure you’ll meet her a lot sooner than I would prefer you to.”  
  
“Is she your mistress?” Dwalin asked bluntly, and Glóin choked on his ale.  
  
“By Stone-, _no_ ,” he protested. “I like my nuggets attached, thank you. Fair warning, last four people who made impolite comments about Nori or her two sisters just barely lived to tell the tale.”  
  
“Are you... serious?” Dís questioned hesitantly and Glóin shrugged.  
  
“Lookers, all three of them. And apparently there’s plenty of stupid going around this part of the world.”  
  
“I can’t help but agree.” A shadow detached from the wall and revealed itself to be an auburn haired Dwarf, close to Dís’ age, but with a look in her eyes that Thorin would prefer never to find in his sister’s. Judging by Glóin’s muttered: “Sooner than even expected then…” this was most likely the Nori he’d spoken about.  
  
She was indeed very lovely with her long red hair gathered together in a complicated looking braid pulled over one shoulder, and golden brown freckles competed for attention on high cheekbones with the intricate tattooed lines spreading out to swirl their way down onto her neck and throat.  
  
It was the tattoo of a casteless, but done with more skill than Thorin could ever remembering seeing devoted to such a thing. Normally they were simple brands, often only covering the cheek, intended to clearly mark the difference between ‘them’ and ‘us’ and not be paid any attention beyond that.  
  
She couldn't possibly have had it done to her as a child, which meant… she had to have been made casteless late in life. Except that couldn’t be right either. The tattoo was simply too well made. Too beautiful. It didn't make sense, but Thorin was too tired to think more on it.

But speaking about sense, anyone who didn’t look beyond the physical loveliness of the girl to notice the sharp look in her green eyes would have to be rather senseless indeed.  
  
“And just how long have you been there, lass?” Glóin asked tiredly.  
  
“Long enough to know that you like to keep your stones attached,” she said innocently. “And no, I’ll not be able to talk Bilbo into coming here. He’s in his clinic, and he’s hardly about to leave just because someone has a cough. It can wait until tomorrow. No offence,” she said to Thráin. “But you’re not nearly as dead as certain other people who needs his help.”  
  
“None taken, and I’m even going to take that as a compliment,” Thráin said wryly. His expression softened noticeably when the lass gave him a brilliant grin.

“Brilliant, another you,” Thorin muttered to his sister.  
  
“Oh hush,” she huffed. “You know it’s Fre-“ Dís bit her lip. “I keep forgetting. That he’s not-”  
  
“Me too,” Thorin took Dís’ hand into his and squeezed it. “Me too.”  
  
“I’m not going to cry,” Dís told herself sternly. “I’ve cried enough in the last couple of weeks. No more crying.”

“Nori, this isn’t a good time, perhaps you can sneak back another day to try and talk me into killing myself?”  
  
Dwalin shot Nori a dark look and she raised her hands. “No need for that, Master ‘ _Is she your mistress_?’. Bit quick to judge people are we?”  
  
Glóin cleared his throat. “Nori, now is _really_ not the time.”  
  
“Fine, but now _is_ the time to talk about the expedition, Glóin. The Deep Roads won’t be this calm forever! Unless the Blight lasts forever, and I’m sure we don’t want that.”  
  
“That’s what this is about?” Dwalin asked. “The guard said that Óin died on an expedition into the Deep Roads.”  
  
“Yes,” Glóin said. “Two years ago now.”  
  
“Why didn’t you send news?” Dwalin asked and his voice was tightly controlled to fight back the grief and anger. “Why weren’t we told?”  
  
“I did send a message, apparently it did not reach you.”

“And you didn’t think to send another when you never heard from us?”  
  
“I-“ Glóin glanced away. “It wasn’t that long ago that I sent it. Perhaps half a year.”  
  
“Five months,” Nori filled in. “He was a bit of a mess really, before I came along to sort him out.”  
  
“For which I’m sure I’m grateful,” Glóin sighed. “On some days. But Nori, we will talk about this later. Or not at all. But not now. Go home to your sisters before Dori thinks I’m seducing you and she has me gelded.”  
  
“She wouldn’t think you’re seducing me,” Nori huffed. “She’s gotten it into her head that you’re the proper type. I’ve seen what you charge for a length of silk. That’s not proper.”  
  
“Nori…”  
  
“Fine, I’ll talk to you later.” Nori sighed and started walking towards the doorway. “But this really is an opportunity that can’t be missed!” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared back into the shadows.

A few moments later the front door slammed.  
  
“Nori, that’s not fooling me anymore!”  
  
“You used to be _fun_ , Glóin,” came a complaining voice from the hallway, and then the door opened and closed again.  
  
“Excuse me for a moment,” Glóin said as he got to his feet. “I’m going to see if she’s lurking still. Oh, and that was Nori.”  
  
“I gathered,” Dwalin said drily.  
  
“Perhaps you want to retire for the night?” Glóin suggested. “It’s a little early still, but I would imagine that you’ve had not only a long day but a long few weeks. There’s bed linen in the cupboard at the top of the stairs, and rooms if you continue down that same hall. Mine is the last room to the left, so perhaps try and avoid that one.”  
  
-  
  
They only needed two rooms. One for Dwalin, and one for Thorin and his family. Thráin had tried to protest and claimed that he would keep them up with his coughing, but Thorin and Dís both preferred that if it meant that they would know their father was this safe and with them.  
  
Feeling a bit like a fool Thorin had offered Dwalin to share their room as well, not in an untoward manner of course, but all four of them had become used to sharing quarters over the course of their journey.  
  
Dwalin had sighed and shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. But thank you. I think, I might as well get used to being alone.”  
  
“You’ll only be alone if you want to,” Thorin said firmly. “You don’t only have your cousin, you have us as well. Don’t forget that.”  
  
Dwalin’s smile had been a bit crooked, but the look in his eyes had been sincere when he’d thanked Thorin, and after they’d clasped arms they had both retired for the night.  
  
Reaching over his sister Thorin rested a hand on his father’s arm. Both his sister and father were finally sleeping, and Thorin could feel his own eyes slowly sliding shut as well. For the first time in weeks the world did not move beneath him, and didn’t smell of fish. Dís was a warm, familiar softness against his side, and he could feel her chest rise and fall with every breath she took.  
  
Between one slow blink and the next, Thorin fell asleep, safe in the knowledge that his family would still be there when he woke up.

-  
  
“Nori will take you to Darktown,” Glóin said the next morning during breakfast. “She’ll keep you safe.”  
  
“Sure,” Nori agreed, slouching in the chair next to Glóin’s as if it she owned it. She’d already been sitting there when the four of them had been lured downstairs by the smell of food, happily munching on a piece of cheese.  
  
“If they do as I say,” she continued. “And all of you are not coming. The one who’s sick and one more at most.”  
  
“I’ll come with you,” Thorin said firmly. He turned to Dís. “Stay here?”  
  
“Thorin…”  
  
“We’ll be right back,” Thráin promised his daughter. “And someone needs to stay and make sure Dwalin doesn’t fall into the water. The walk down to the docks was not _that_ long, he might get confused.”  
  
“Funny,” Dwalin said, waving a piece of bread at Thráin. The bald Dwarf turned his attention to Nori. “Does anyone really has to go with you, can’t you just get the herbs or whatever this Bilbo would give for the cough and that’d be it? It’s just a cough, even if it’s a fairly severe one.”  
  
“Bilbo will want to see him,” Nori said, shrugging one shoulder. “The rest of you are entirely optional.”  
  
“I’ve already said I’ll go,” Thorin said.  
  
“Great, then let’s go!” Nori stuffed the remainder of her food inside her mouth, muffling her next words. “ I don’t have time to sit here _all_ morning.”  
  
“Let them eat first,” Glóin scolded. “If you want something to do there’s a new shipment of teas in the study, see if Dori would like some. I kept them special for her.”  
  
Nori fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m sure she’ll be so grateful.”  
  
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Glóin said mildly, and Thorin’s mouth twitched at the dark look that prompted in Nori’s eyes. “I’m thinking of getting her to agree that you need a curfew. “  
  
“I’m not a child,” Nori protested, but considering that one of her cheeks still bulged from unchewed food, her words could have held more weight.  
  
“Then stop being impatient like one. Go into the study. Get tea. Come back and we’ll see if these kind people have finished eating.”  
  
“Fine,” Nori muttered. Before she left she leaned over and stole Glóin’s goblet to wash down her food.  
  
“You have your own,” Glóin pointed out as she handed it back to him.  
  
“I like yours better,” the lass replied sweetly.  
  
-

“Why is it called Darktown?” Thorin asked as they were making their way towards the healer.  
  
“Why do you think?” Nori snorted and shrugged. “It’s Dark. Hightown is up on the heights. Lowtown is below Hightown, and Darktown is bloody dark. Sometimes literally bloody as well. It’s not a place you go to alone unless you know your way.” She snorted again. “It’s built in the sewers, everything looks the same, and it’s not a nice place to say the least. You’re going to do _exactly_ what I tell you.”  
  
“And the best healer Glóin knows lives there?” Thorin shook his head and traded a wary look with his father. “Why isn’t he with the Chantry?”  
  
“Well, if they had their way he wouldn’t be here,” Nori replied with a crooked smile. “But so far, no one has been able to… convince him.”  
  
“Is he a good healer?”  
  
“He’s the best,” Nori said, sounding like she meant it. “Oh, but there’s one thing you should know about him though. Before we actually go into Darktown.”  
  
“He’s got a horrible bedside manner?” Thorin asked drily. “I’m starting to consider Dwalin a friend, and while you don’t know him, trust me, this Bilbo can hardly be ruder than him.”  
  
Thorin wasn’t at all surprised that Dwalin did not really like politics. He’d never met anyone less suited for it. If Dwalin had an opinion on something, soon everyone around him knew exactly what that opinion was, be it good or bad.  
  
“Bilbo is the kindest and most polite person I know,” Nori said firmly. “He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. I owe him my life because he lacks even the self-preservation of a blind nug.”  
  
“Then what’s wrong with him?” Thorin asked. “What should we know about him?”  
  
“He’s a Mage.” Nori bit her lip, but that was the only sign of any insecurity. “I hope you’re not the kind of fools who would take offence at that?”  
  
“No, we’re some other kind of fool I’m su-,” Thráin said, breaking off to cough, his face first growing flushed and then pale.  
  
“It’s fine,” Thorin said shortly. “But if he’s a Mage, will he be able to help father? Our kind is resistant to magic.”  
  
He wasn’t sure, but it could be why Dís was so abysmal at healing. She’d only ever tried it on Thorin or Frerin, and then on Balin after the ogre had-  
  
“That’s mostly for the damaging kind,” Nori said,interrupting Thorin's thought just as they were about to take a dark turn. “Bilbo tried to explain it to me once, don’t ask me who made him the expert, but since raw Lyrium is this constant source of magical damage that’s how we build up our resistance to it. It’s been around us for generations and is sort of in our blood? For Magic that’s not actively _damaging_ we’ve got a much, much lower resistance. Still better than the humans and elves, but nothing to brag about.”  
  
“To sum it up there is an Apostate Mage living in the sewers, and the Chantry are all right with this?” Thráin asked faintly after he’d gotten his breath back.  
  
Nori snorted. “Of course they’re not. But what are they going to do?”  
  
“Send Templars?” Thorin suggested.  
  
“All Bilbo has ever done is to help people,” Nori said. “If they try and put him in the Gallows, or worse, they’d have a rebellion on their hands. No one in Darktown or Lowtown wants him to get hurt. And no one in the Alienage either. He’s helping the Elves just as much as he helps the rest of us. And regardless of what you’re trying to do, you can’t send Templars into Darktown without ending up with a world of trouble. And right now no one is looking to rock the boat.”

“What if we were spies?” Thráin asked. “Or even assassins sent by the Chantry? Perhaps you should not tell people so freely that-”

Nori’s grin was as sharp as the dagger that had suddenly found its way into her hands. “Well, he can hardly help you without giving away that he’s a Mage. The glowing thing he does is a bit conspicuous. And if you’d been sent by the Chantry you would have already known. _If_ , sent by the Chantry or not, you are foolish enough to care about him being a Mage over how he is a wonderful person…well, accidents do happen. Especially in Darktown.”  
  
“I feel incredibly safe with you now,” Thorin said drily.  
  
“Good,” Nori said. “Because the entrance is just around the corner, time’s a wasting, let’s go.”  
  
-  
  
Darktown was indeed dark. And while Thorin and Thráin were of course not strangers to being underground and moving through fairly narrow passage ways, Thorin couldn’t remember ever feeling this trapped in any corridor in Erebor. Thaigs were built to last through the ages. They were built with pride and with skill. This Darktown was the opposite of that. Not only was everything just slightly crooked and off kilter, it was also dirty and it made Thorin feel like a rat scurrying through a duct, knowing that a predator lurked just around the corner. Every so often lanterns or torches were set into the walls to light their way, but the shadows were long and dark and seemed to gaze threateningly at them.  
  
“Stay close,” Nori told them again. “There’s good people down here, like Bilbo, but there’s also all kinds of people you don’t want to meet. Though I guess that’s true for the rest of the city as well. Anyway, our kind is not very popular with slavers, but still, why take the chance.”  
  
“Slavers?” Thorin asked, his voice hushed.  
  
“Old habits die hard in Kirkwall,” Nori replied. “Now quiet. And follow me.”  
  
-  
  
Nori took them through crowded passageways and narrow halls to something as strange as a round, green door set into a flimsy looking wall.

“He’s a bit, special,” Nori said fondly when she caught their confusion. “And I trust that you’ll be on your very best behaviour?”  
  
Thorin and Thráin both wisely stopped themselves from commenting about their best behaviour compared to Nori’s and settled for nodding instead. Not bothering to knock, the auburn-haired Dwarf opened the door and ducked her head slightly to get inside.  
  
Before entering Thorin gave the door on odd look. Why would someone, be he human or elven, chose such a low door for his home that even Dwarves were forced to bow their heads. That was hardly convenient and this Bilbo must indeed be _special_ , to say the least.  
  
The inside of the little - Thorin hesitated to call anyone’s home a hovel, but it certainly was a lot less nice than Glóin’s house - it was just as dark as the outside had been. But unlike most of Darktown, Thorin was surprised to find that it smelled rather nice. He could smell hints of many herbs and spices, as well as something almost sweet. This Mage was perhaps somewhat of a potion maker as well as being a healer?

Hand on his father’s arm and eyes fixed on Nori’s back, Thorin followed her into a surprisingly large room. However the size of the room was not as surprising as the size of the person in it.

He had to be the smallest man Thorin had ever seen. Seen from the back it was possible that Thorin would have mistaken him for a Dwarf, but as Thorin now had a good view of his face it was clear that this man was no Dwarf. Not only did he lack even the shadow of a beard, but he was soft and delicate in a manner that Thorin had never seen in one of his kin.  
  
Wild honey coloured curls tumbled over his forehead, covered his ears and fell down to rest against the grey collar of his shirt. The stained sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, revealing pale skin and thin wrists.  
  
None of this was terribly remarkable though, humans did tend to come in more varied shapes and sizes than the other races, but the soft white glow that came from his hands certainly wasn’t what you expected from the run of the mill human, and it was this that convinced Thorin that this had to be the Mage they were looking for.  
  
His hands were held out over a human lad lying on a rickety looking table. The boy’s face was pale and his chest was rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. As Thorin watched the glow intensified and brightened enough that it was almost too strong to look at, and then it abruptly sunk into the boy’s body. Only moments later colour had returned to his cheeks, and his breaths were coming at a much more normal rate. He even appeared to be sleeping.  
  
The Mage, Bilbo, on the other hand looked exhausted, standing with his hands braced on the table and his head bowed.  
  
“Bilbo?” Nori called softly. “You all right?”  
  
The blond raised his head and managed a weary smile. “Nori, hello. I was wondering when you’d come lurking around here again.”  
  
“I don’t lurk,” Nori protested. “I sneak. There is quite a difference I’ll have you know.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Bilbo said non-committally.  
  
“And don’t think I’ve forgotten how you’ve not answered the question. Are you all right?”  
  
“Yes, of course,” Bilbo said. “And so will this one be. He just need a bit of rest. You didn’t see his mother outside did you? She couldn’t leave his siblings, but she was trying to get someone to watch them. “  
  
“No, just us.”  
  
“Us? Oh, hello.”  
  
“Well met,” Thráin said, nodding at the blond with his hands pressed to his chest to show he was unarmed.  
  
“Hello,” Thorin managed.  
  
“Hi,” Bilbo said again, then blinked. “Oh, I already said that didn’t I.”  
  
“The older one has a bad cough. If you feel up to it,” Nori said. “Sorry, but this isn’t a social call.”  
  
“I’m Thráin, son of Thrór,” Thráin said, respectfully lowering his head. (It lost some of its effectiveness seeing as the tiny man’s head was still lower than Thráin’s even when bowed.) “I don’t wish to impose if-“ Another bout of the rattling cough tore through Thráin’s chest and he turned his face away.  
  
“Now that doesn’t sound good at all,” Bilbo said, forehead wrinkling in concern and his boots made quick tapping noise on the dirt floor as he walked towards Thráin.  
  
“Well, I told you so,” Nori said. “But he’s not about to buy it this minute. We can come back later.” She gently touched Bilbo’s arm, halting him. “You don’t look so good.”  
  
“Thank you,” Bilbo said and rolled his eyes, and at the same time Thráin cleared his throat.  
  
“Young lady,” Thráin said sternly. “I do not appreciate being talked about as if-“ More coughing caused Thráin to cover his mouth with his fist.  
  
“He called you a lady,” Bilbo informed Nori, a small smile teasing around the edges of his mouth.  
  
“Well, we’ve just met,” Nori shrugged. “They’re friends of a cousin of Glóin’s and they’ve just arrived from Ferelden.”  
  
“Oh.” The little man instantly sobered up. “I’m so sorry. I guessing this wasn’t a visit that was planned. To Kirkwall I mean. We’ve had quite a number of Fereldans coming into Darktown during the last few days.”  
  
“I thought that you were not allowed into the city unless you had the coin to pay your way,” Thorin said. "And family in the city to boot. Why would they need to come to Darktown?"  
  
“You're not allowed in through the main gates,” Bilbo explained. “But there are more than one way into the city. If you know where to look” He smiled sadly. “I tend to avoid the main ones myself.”  
  
“We’re _not_ going to tell anyone about you,” Thorin hastened to assure him. He was perhaps a little too emphatic, because Bilbo turned an accusing glare at Nori.  
  
“Have you been threatening people again?”

“You say threaten, I say ‘tips on how to live longer’.”  
  
“I must apologise on her behalf,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. “Because I know she won’t.”  
  
“I’m not going to apologise for not wanting you to end up in the Gallows,” Nori said stubbornly. “Or worse. If they ever get their hands on you I just bet they’ll make you Tranquil quicker than-.”  
  
“Nori, not now,” Bilbo said tiredly and the Dwarf clamped her mouth shut. “Now,” he closed the final distance to Thráin. “Let’s take a look at that cough. Well, not literally of course. I can’t see coughs. Is it just a cough or…?”

A soft sigh drew Thorin’s gaze to the human lad, who had now woken up.  
  
“Hello,” the boy said sleepily when he realised Thorin was watching him.  
  
“Hello,” Thorin said, smiling hesitantly down at the boy. He was rather fond of children, but had only ever met Dwarven ones before.  
  
“Master Bilbo will help your friend,” the boy said, glancing over at Thráin and Bilbo. “He helps everyone.”

“Thank you, Jonas. Don’t get off the table, you’re to rest until your mother gets here. Right. Take a deep breath, please” Bilbo prompted, hovering both his hands just over Thráin’s chest. “Can I- if I touch you, just outside your clothes of course, I think this will work better.”  
  
“Oh, yes, of course,” Thráin said, and Bilbo smiled up at him.  
  
“You’re frowning,” the little boy informed Thorin. “I told you your friend will be fine. I couldn’t even feel my legs, but now I do!” The boy sat up and happily wriggled his dirty toes.  
  
“I’m not frowning,” Thorin protested, shaking his head when Nori turned a narrowed eye look at him. “I’m- never mind.”  
  
Bilbo whispered something beneath his breath and a soft yellow glow spread from his hands and into Thráin’s chest. Thorin watched with fascination how his father seemed to shine, his skin taking on a soft golden shimmer for a brief moment before it faded again.

“And take a deep breathe again.”  
  
Thráin did, and unlike the last time this was without the wet, rattling sound. He looked much less pale as well, even if it was still noticeable that the crossing from Ferelden had not been particularly kind to him.

“My thanks,” Thráin said warmly. “What a remarkable gift you have.”  
  
“Oh, thank you,” Bilbo said, a hint of pink coming to his cheeks. “I- that’s very kind of you.”  
  
“Says the one who have just stopped someone from coughing up his lungs,” Nori said with a sigh.  
  
“I thought you didn’t think my ailment that serious,” Thráin said drily. “I’m touched to find that you care..”  
  
“I said you’d not die this minute,” Nori sniffed. “But if Bilbo hadn’t helped you’d not lasted a month. I recognize the start of lung fever when I hear it.”  
  
“And now I’m simply _overwhelmed_ with your concern.”  
  
“You were nicer when you were feverish.”  
  
“Young lady-“  
  
Bilbo snickered. “I’m sorry, but it’s really quite funny if you know her.”  
  
“I’ll be back later,” Nori promised. “With lunch.”  
  
“Is that a threat?” Bilbo asked.  
  
“I might be.”  
  
“So it’s not Dori who’s been cooking I take it.”  
  
“Ori is still claiming that she needs the practice.” Nori snorted. “Only she keeps forgetting what she’s doing and wandering off to read or scribble. Smoke is a daily occurrence these days. Drives Dori ‘round the bend since she thinks the smell sticks to her clothes.”  
  
“We should leave,” Thorin said, wincing slightly at how rude it had sounded. “I- my sister, we should get back to her.”  
  
“Quite right,” Thráin agreed. “Thank you, again.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thorin echoed. “I am in your debt for what you did for my father.”  
  
“No, no,” Bilbo said. “I was glad to help. None of that now.”  
  
“I insist,” Thorin bowed his head. “If there is anything I can do, do not hesitate to ask. I am Thorin, son of Thráin, at your service.”  
  
The dark-haired Dwarf watched with some fascination how Bilbo’s cheeks coloured further after Nori had leaned in to whisper something in his ear. It made his eyes look very green.  
  
“Nori,” the little man hissed. “That’s, _no_.”  
  
“Then ask him to help me convince Glóin about the Deep Roads. I could use the help.”

“No, because it’s not a good idea.”  
  
“But you -“  
  
“Nori,” Bilbo said warningly.  
  
“Fine.” Nori crossed her arms. “But you know I’m right.”  
  
“I assure you I do not.”  
  
“You really do.” Bumping her hip against Bilbo’s, Nori then turned back to Thorin and Thráin. “Let’s go back to the others then? And as before, stay close and do as I say.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thorin said again to Bilbo. He knew he was repeating himself, but he really meant it. “And I do intend to keep my promise. Anything I can do for you, just let me know.”  
  
“I-“ small, pearly teeth bit into a pleasingly plump lip, not that Thorin noticed of course. Not at all... “I promise you, your thanks is more than enough.”  
  
“If you change your mind, I’m sure Nori can tell you where to find me,” Thorin said, inclining his head. “Once again, thank you. I hope we will meet again.”  
  
“You shouldn’t,” Nori snorted. “That’ll probably mean you’re sick.”  
  
“Nori,” Bilbo scolded. “He’s just being polite, you might try it sometime.”  
  
“I have tried it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as simply telling people what to do,” Nori shrugged. “Come on then, back up we go. _Please_.” She shot Bilbo a look as if to say: ‘ _there_ , I _can_ be polite’.  
  
“Good-bye,” Thorin said, and Thráin echoed him.  
  
“Bye!” the young human lad said cheerfully and Bilbo gave a little start and turned to look at him.  
  
“Oh, are you already awake, Jonas?”  
  
Nori snorted. “You should know, you ordered him to stay on the table after the woke up.” She pulled on the sleeve of Thorin’s shirt. “Move it, before I do think that you’re a spy.”  
  
Thorin shot her an annoyed look, but led himself be nudged along towards the exit. Before he left he looked over his shoulder to find the little blond smiling at the boy who couldn’t be older than twelve at the most and still managed to tower over Bilbo.  
  
It was a nice smile.  
  
Not that he’d noticed.  
  
-  
  
“You planning on staying with Glóin?” Nori asked over her shoulder as they were nearing the part of the city that Glóin lived in. Or, at least Thorin assumed that they were because things seemed a bit familiar. Or rather, not quite as unfamiliar.  
  
“We cannot impose on his-“ Thráin began.  
  
“That’s a yes then,” Nori nodded. “He’s not going to let any friends of his slink off just on the principle of it.”  
  
“We met him yesterday,” Thorin said. “We cannot be considered to be friends.”  
  
“But you’re friends with his cousin, that’s good enough for him.”  
  
“We’ve not known Dwalin for very long either.”  
  
“Notice how you didn’t deny the friends bit?” Nori turned her head to look at him. “You’ve not shared your story yet, but I can guess. And I can tell you’ve all gone through something awful. It’s there in your eyes. And trust me, you go through something like that with someone, you’re going to know each other better than people who live their entire lives just making polite small talk to their neighbours.”  
  
“I take it you’re not a fan of small talk?” Thorin raised an eyebrow.  
  
“What gave you that idea?” Nori gave him a crooked smile.  
  
“What exactly are you trying to convince Glóin to do?”  
  
“Get rich, and make me rich as well,” Nori said with a sigh. “He’s proving to be remarkably stubborn though. But I guess, I understand why. Doesn’t mean I like it. I’ll tell you if you promise to help?”  
  
“Young lady,” Thráin scolded. “You’ll tell us, and only then we will let you know if we wish to help.”  
  
“You’d not believe how many people buy the first one,” Nori mused. “I’ll tell you later. It’s not the type of thing I want to share on the streets.”  
  
“Is this also something you will threaten to kill us for if we tell the wrong person?” Thorin asked, only half joking.  
  
“I knew you seemed like a sharp one,” Nori grinned. “Not just a pretty one is he?” she added to Thráin.  
  
Thráin hid a laugh in a cough. “I don’t seem to be quite recovered yet.”  
  
“Father,” Thorin protested.  
  
“Ah, come now, Thorin. You look a lot like your mother, and I was the envy of all of Erebor when she agreed to become my wife. He’s got her eyes,” Thráin told Nori. “Not the hair, he gets that from me.” Frerin was the only one who had inherited their mother's golden hair... 

“Very pretty eyes,” Nori agreed. “Like blue topaz. His beard is a little short, but I expect it will grow to be just as impressive as yours.”

“Are you flirting with my father?” Thorin asked, horrified. “Stop it at once.”  
  
“Make me,” Nori said smugly, tossing her braids over one shoulder.  
  
“Father,” Thorin said pleadingly.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, Thorin.”  
  
“Too late,” Thorin grumped.  
  
“It seems to me that her interests are elsewhere.”  
  
Nori shot him a sharp look but Thráin merely smiled warmly back at her.  
  
“Who?” Thorin asked and Nori’s mouth thinned into a line but when Thorin turned to Thráin, his father merely shook his head.  
  
“Not my story to share, son.”  
  
Surprised Nori glanced at Thráin from beneath her bangs and the older Dwarf smiled at her. “I wasn’t sure, but I have to say that your reaction just now proved my suspicion.”

“And that’s enough said about that,” Nori said.  
  
“Of course,” Thráin agreed. “Oh stop frowning, Thorin,” he added with a huff. “It’s not you either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Circle of Magi](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Circle_of_Magi)
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> [Tevinter Imperium](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Tevinter_Imperium)
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	7. Chapter Four - A Business Discussion: The Deep Roads Expedition

Just before Thorin stepped over the threshold to Glóin’s home Nori tapped him on the shoulder. “A word?”  
  
“Just one?”  
  
Thráin had already gone inside the house, but he poked his head out the door, one eyebrow raised.  
  
“I’ll return him with just as much of his virtue as he has now,” Nori promised with a grin.  
  
“See that you do,” Thráin nodded and disappeared inside the house, unconcerned with the glare Thorin gave him.

“I like your father,” Nori mused. “But don’t worry, I’m not about to attempt and become your new mama.”  
  
“I’m trying not to faint from relief,” Thorin murmured. “What do you want?”

“To know if you can handle the sword you’ve got at your hip. You look like you can.”  
  
“Is that some sort of innuendo?” Thorin asked. “Should I worry about my virtue after all?”  
  
Nori huffed out a laugh. “Well, I did call you pretty, didn’t I? But no. It’s about my business with Glóin. When he says yes, we’re going to need people who can hold their own in a fight. You move like you’d be one of those. And I’m guessing you and yours didn’t escape from Darkspawn just by running, and neither your sister nor your father look like warriors. Doesn’t have to be a sword. Axe, mace… I’m not one to judge. But you are wearing a sword, so…”

Running had certainly been a big part of escaping the Darkspawn, sword or not. And if it hadn’t been for Dís’ magic and Tharkûn’s intervention, they never would have made it. But he was not about to betray his sister’s secret and he very much doubted Nori would believe that they had been saved by a Mage who was supposed to be a legend.  
  
She didn’t seem like the type of person prone to flights of fancy.  
  
“I’ve been trained by a fourfold Proving champion,” Thorin said shortly. “One chosen to be one of the royal guards. But I’d not raised my sword against another being with the intention to cause harm before the Darkspawn came.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Nori told him, smacking him on the arm. “Great, glad to have you.”  
  
“I’m still waiting to hear what this is about.”  
  
“Not having to worry about coin ever again, for the rest of our lives. Well, at least Glóin and I won’t, but you’ll be well-paid as well, I promise.”  
  
Thorin glanced at the house. “Doesn’t seem like Glóin has to worry that hard at the moment.”  
  
“You’d think so,” Nori muttered.  
  
Thorin raised an eyebrow and Nori held up a hand. “Not my problem, so definitely not yours. And if it ever becomes yours, by then you’ll know about it. Go and join the others before they think I’m eloping with you.”  
  
“You’re not coming?”  
  
Nori shook her head. “Other things I need to do. But I’ll see you later, I’m sure.”  
  
“Thank you for bringing us to…” Thorin lowered his voice. “-your friend. I would say that I am in your debt as well, but I have a feeling I might regret that.”  
  
“Definitely not just a pretty face,” Nori grinned. “As I said, I like your father, I’m glad he’s feeling better. Lung fever is a nasty way to go. Better to go quickly then to slowly choke to death on your own-“  
  
“Thank you,” Thorin grimaced. “That’s quite enough.”  
  
“Run along now, little merchant,” Nori said and made shooing motions with her hands. “Tell Glóin I’ll be by later.”  
  
“I’ll make sure to lock the door behind me.”  
  
Nori laughed brightly and the sun danced in her eyes and her red hair and made her look all kinds of lovely. Thorin brutally quieted a small voice within when it wondered what honey-blond curls would look like in the sun.  
  
“You lock it if it makes you happier,” Nori smiled. “But tell him even so.”

-

  
“You. _You_!” Glóin walked towards Thorin with his arms spread, wrapping them tightly around a bewildered Thorin. “ _Thank you_ , my friend. Dwalin and your sister has shared the tales of your prowess when it came to killing Darkspawn. If not for you, then both my cousins would be lost to me.”  
  
Dís and Dwalin had the same innocent expression on their face when Thorin glared at them over Glóin’s shoulder.  
  
He did not appreciate to be praised for something that was just as much Dís victory, if not more, because without her none of them would have made it. And Dwalin hadn’t exactly stood around and done nothing himself. But at the same time he was relieved that Dwalin seemed inclined to keep his word and not tell anyone about Dís’ magic, not even his cousin.  
  
Even so, there was no reason to exaggerate matters.  
  
“I’m sure that what they have told you was a truth heavily embroidered with hyperbole,” Thorin said as Glóin gave him a final squeeze and then released him.  
  
“Pfft,” the red-headed Dwarf scoffed. “They told me you’d be humble as well. No need for that.”

Thorin’s glare at his sister and Dwalin intensified, as did their innocent expressions. Had there been some unanimous decision that morning to drive him crazy, or was it just a happy coincidence? But even through his annoyance Thorin couldn’t help but feel relief that his sister and Dwalin didn’t look overly saddened even though they must have talked a fair bit of what had come to pass just before they left Ferelden. Perhaps it really was as Dís had said, they’d all cried enough.  
  
“We have done nothing for Dwalin that he has not already repaid in full,” Thorin said firmly. “If not for him we would still be in Gwaren, or at the docks here in Kirkwall.”  
  
“But I would be dead,” Dwalin said. “Quite a bit of difference there, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
Glóin nodded. “Indeed, cousin, indeed. But this is hardly something to argue about. The important thing is that you are here, and welcome to stay for as long as you want to.”  
  
“Glóin’s offered us work,” Dís said brightly. “And I’m going to help as well, so don’t even bother trying to say anything.”  
  
“Messere,” Thráin began and Glóin immediately frowned.  
  
“No, no, no titles between us. You are like family to me now. I won’t have any of that.”  
  
“Glóin then,” Thráin said with a polite smile. “It is really a generous offer, but we can’t-“  
  
“But you can,” Glóin interrupted. “And you would be doing me a big favour if you stayed here, damned lonely with just Nori occasionally sneaking around.”  
  
“Speaking of, she said she’d be by later,” Thorin said.  
  
“See,” Glóin said, nodding at Thráin. “See what you and your children would be saving me from.”  
  
Thráin’s smile grew a little more genuine. “Be that as it may-“  
  
“No, I won’t hear of any polite excuses either,” Glóin said firmly. “And as far as that work goes, that would really be you doing me a favour and not the other way around. Dwalin and Dís tells me that you’re merchants?”  
  
“Yes,” Thráin nodded, glancing towards his daughter. “Mostly Lyrium, not really much general trade.”  
  
“I trade in pretty much everything but Lyrium myself,” Glóin said and sighed. “Only, I’ve been a rather poor excuse for a merchant lately. Since my brother died to be precise. He was the inventive one, I was just the one who’s good with numbers. Only lasted this long because I had such a stable business to start with.” He looked earnestly at Thráin. “I need people who know what they are doing, and selling is selling. Do you think that would be you and your children?”  
  
Thráin looked to Dís, who nodded ; having obviously made up her mind already, and to Thorin who didn’t know what to think.  
  
The loss of Erebor had meant that loss of everything known to him, except for his sister and his father. He would never get Frerin back, and it could be decades until they could reclaim Erebor, if not longer, because to do so would potentially require an army to get rid of all the Darkspawn, and where were they supposed to get an army?  
  
He supposed that they could go to Orzammar; the trip there would be much shorter than the one from Gwaren to Kirkwall, but they’d not have any sort of life there if they went with just the clothes on their back and empty pockets. To not accept Glóin’s offer would consequently be all sorts foolish, but Thorin still hesitated because agreeing felt like he was giving up on Erebor.  
  
Eventually he looked at his father and nodded, and Thráin let out a breath that sounded like a sigh, but if it was one of relief or disappointment Thorin couldn’t tell.  
  
“We would be happy to accept your offer, Glóin,” Thráin said, and Dwalin startled them all by clapping his hands together.  
  
“Great,” he said. “That’s settled. And it means I need _not_ to join your business, Glóin, since you’ll be getting help from people who know what they’re doing.”  
  
“What will you be doing then, cousin?” Glóin asked. “You had no trade in Erebor.”  
  
“I’m good hitting things,” Dwalin shrugged. “Which is not a particularly good skill when it comes to selling things, unless you’re going for a certain heavy handed approach. I figured that there’d be some tavern or something that could use a guard.”  
  
A noble working as a tavern guard… Thorin and Dís exchanged a dubious look, but Glóin didn’t seem to find anything strange with the idea.

“Nori might be able to help you there,” he said. “If you’re sure?”  
  
“Won’t be sure until I try it, will I?”  
  
“True, true.” Glóin rubbed his hands. “But that’s a matter for another day. For now, thank you for choosing to stay here. We’ll get you properly sorted out with rooms, and everything else practical, and-“  
  
“Don’t go scaring them off right away,” Dwalin teased as his cousin babbled on about everything that would need to be taken care of.  
  
“We don’t scare lightly,” Dís said with a sniff. “Oh, not that you were-“ she added to Glóin. “I mean-“  
  
The redheaded Dwarf chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry, lass, I’m just happy to have you here. I know I have already said it, but you’re all very welcome. I hope you’ll like it here in Kirkwall. It’s not going to be what you’re used to, but just let me know if there’s anything I can help you with. Anything mine, is yours.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thráin said, and Thorin and Dís echoed it. “We are of course at your service as well.”  
  
“You’ll need to rest and recover from-“  
  
“I’d rather not,” Dís said firmly. “I would appreciate if there was something I could do to help.”  
  
Glóin looked surprised for a moment before he recovered. “Well if that’s what you want, you’d be welcome to join me in the shop. It’s closed today, but we can still go and you can pick out some new clothes, which of course goes for the rest of you as well. Especially you, Dwalin. You smell. Have you been sleeping in that armour?”  
  
“Thank you, cousin,” Dwalin said drily.  
  
“You’re welcome.” Glóin turned to Dís again. “And if you change your mind, just let me know.”  
  
“She’s very stubborn,” Thorin said, raising an eyebrow when Dís glared at him.  
  
“Runs in the family, I’ve noticed.” Dwalin grinned at them when they all turned to glare. “You’ll fit right in.”

-  
  
Thorin couldn’t sleep.  
  
Almost two weeks had gone by since they’d accepted Glóin’s offer to stay with him which mean that more than a month had passed since they’d been forced to leave Erebor, since Frerin’s death.  
  
It was not any less painful to think about, but Thorin had found his thought were less _often_ drawn to the subject. He no longer turned his head to say something to the brother that wasn’t there, and hours could go by without him thinking of him at all. And he could go days without thinking about Lóni.

He knew that no matter what happened he would never forget them, forget Erebor, but it still caused an ache to start in his gut when he realised he’d dare to forget them even for a short amount of time. No one would transcribe Frerin’s death into the Memories, so all Thorin could do was to keep him alive in his. Lóni was perhaps not dead, because if anyone could have fought off the Darkspawn it would have been him, but there was a good chance that Thorin would never know either way.  
  
Dís was sleeping in her own bed for once, which was good because that meant that she was… well, happy might be pushing it, but she wasn’t scared, or worried, and there were no bad dreams. But Thorin would have appreciated the distraction of listening to her soft and steady breathing, because it seemed as if his mind was not ready to go to sleep any soon.  
  
With a sigh he got out of bed. If he couldn’t sleep, then at least he could go down and look over the accounts for the store. He was still trying to wrap his head about Glóin’s shop as he wasn’t used to dealing with so many different kinds of goods, but practice made perfect.  
  
Pulling on a tunic over his sleep pants he padded barefoot out of his room and over to the staircase. About half-way down Thorin realised that he could hear voices coming from downstairs.  
  
“Nori, even _if_ I agreed to let you have my maps, and I do not, I don’t have the money for the kind of expedition you’re proposing. Last time we lost all the equipment, everything. We- those of us who made it back were happy to make it out of their with our lives never mind anything else.”

“I’ve _told_ you that you don’t need to worry about that part. My partner will provide the equipment, you’ll provide the maps and share what you learnt the last time and-“  
  
“What I learnt the last time is that the Deep Roads beneath Kirkwall is a bloody death trap.”  
  
“But the Darkspawn are gone! While the Blight-“  
  
“You can’t know that, Nori. There could be hundreds of those damned bastards still-“  
  
“But I know!”  
  
“Have you gone into the Deep Roads on your own?” Glóin’s voice was thunderous. “You can’t do that, lass, you’ll-“  
  
“I’ve not been. But I know someone who has been.”  
  
“That partner of yours?”  
  
Nori snorted. “Like Bluebeard would dare to go on his own. He’s greedy but not stupid. If we go, he’ll come, but only to make sure he’s not being swindled. And he’ll bring lots of hired muscle.”  
  
“I thought you said that there weren’t going to be any Darkspawn.”  
  
“I didn’t say that there wouldn’t be _any_ , just that there won’t be many.”  
  
“And how will you pick which entrance to use? That was our mistake last time,” Glóin said quietly, voice heavy with sorrow.  
  
“It won’t matter as much because as I _keep saying_ , the Deep Roads will have much less Darkspawn in them compared to two years ago, but I also happen to confident that I know what the best entrance will be.”  
  
“Information from the same mysterious source who told you about the lack of Darkspawn?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, yes.”  
  
“And what makes this person so capable when it comes to the Deep Roads?”  
  
“He’s a Grey Warden.”  
  
Silence ensued, and Thorin was just about to go back up again when-  
  
“While Glóin is chewing on that, you might as well come and join us, Thorin,” Nori called.

Thorin’s eyes widened and he could feel his ears burn.

“Don’t be shy!”  
  
“My apologies,” Thorin said as he continued walking down the stairs. He stopped as soon as he could see the pair seated by the kitchen table. “I didn’t-“  
  
“Yes you did,” Nori snorted. “Or you’d gone back upstairs. Owning up to your own sneakiness is the only way to get better at it, Thorin. Embrace it and move on to greater things.”  
  
Thorin glanced at Glóin who still looked a little dazed, but when he noticed Thorin’s gaze he waved a hand and invited him to the table. “If you’re here you might as well help me, lad. I have a feeling my dear Nori is spinning a bigger lie than usual.”  
  
“Pfft,” Nori scoffed. “Not only am I not lying, you don’t even think that I am or you’d not have looked like I’d smacked you over the head with a nug.”  
  
“Poor nug,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“You’re supposed to be on my side, lad,” Glóin protested half-heartily. “Though I expect that you’re right about the nug. Soft little things they are. Nori, are you truly telling me that you’ve found a Grey Warden.”  
  
“It’s not like he was lying out on the street just waiting for me to pick him up,” Nori said with a smug smile. “And he actually found me, but I think the key point you’re looking for here is that I do know a Grey Warden. And that Grey Warden does not only go into the Deep Roads, I also think I can talk him into helping us when-“  
  
“So he’s not agreed to anything yet?” Glóin asked.  
  
“Not exactly.”  
  
Glóin rested his elbow on the table and propped up his head on his hand. “Nori…”  
  
“It’s not like we’d _really_ need him,” Nori said defensively. “If he just helps us with our plans that’s plenty. And there’s still time for me to talk him around. It’s a good plan, Glóin,” she continued. “Good enough that… even without your maps we might go. Exploring would be less effective than heading for a known location but it might still be well worth it. Who knows what we’ll find. But I want you in on it. Not only because it’ll make it safer for us, but also because you _deserve_ to get a share in what we’re going to find.” Nori’s green eyes met Glóin’s, and they were sincere in a way that Thorin had already come to realise was rather unusual for her.  
  
“You helped me, helped my sisters when we needed it. And now I want to help you.”

“You helped me enough when you made me get my head out of my arse after I lost Óin,” Glóin murmured tiredly. “Are you really going even if I won’t give you the maps?”  
  
Nori hesitated for a few long moments before nodding. “Yes, I think we are. Bluebeard is getting impatient as the preparations will be done soon, and we’ve not even picked a date to head out. He’s convinced that there is much to be found in the Deep Roads as they have been left untouched for so long. And I do want go now when I know the Deep Roads are basically empty of the Darkspawn.”  
  
Nori glanced at Thorin. “As I said before, you are welcome to join us. We could use more people capable of holding their own in a fight.”  
  
“I thought you said that this partner of yours, Bluebeard, had hired plenty.”  
  
“Still not as many as we first planned. People are… weary of joining us.”  
  
“Because of what happened to my expedition,” Glóin sighed. “Nori, doesn’t that tell you something? Something along the lines of _not_ going through with this?”  
  
“Forgive me for saying this, but we’re better prepared. There will be few if any Darkspawn. If we’re lucky there will even be a Grey Warden with us.”  
  
“You’ve never told me what you expect to find,” Thorin said. “Treasure I assume, but why would treasure be lying around waiting to be discovered.”  
  
Nori and Glóin glanced at each other, and Glóin shrugged. “If you want him to come, you better tell him about your plan.”  
  
“It was your plan well before it was mine,” Nori said defensively, but she continued even so. “Glóin has a map to a thaig that was abandoned years and years ago, since before even the Third Blight. And there have been stories as well, scavenger tales. Darkspawn do not care for treasure when they come, so there could be plenty to find down in the Deep Roads, lost thaig or not.”

The thought of Erebor came unbidden into Thorin’s mind. If they couldn’t reclaim it, would people in a few hundred years’ time sit and talk about venturing into her halls and taking the treasures they could find. Someone would rifle through his mother’s jewellery box, take what Thráin had kept as memories of his wife, perhaps discard the items that were only valuable because of the memories attached to it and not because of the gold and gems.  
  
“It’s no use to anyone if it’s just left to gather dust,” Nori said softly, seeing Thorin’s unease. “And no one will ever miss anything we find.”  
  
“Because they’re dead.”  
  
“Yes,” Nori said simply. “But if we find what they left, their memories won’t be. But to be entirely honest, if we find huge sacks of coin, I’m not above spending it. Coin only has a value if it’s put to good use.”  
  
“True,” Thorin admitted. But it still didn’t sit quite right for him.  
  
Glóin sighed, “If you’re going no matter what, then you don’t leave me any choice, do you?”  
  
“There’s always a choice, Glóin,” Nori said. “Sometimes, sometimes just not a very good one.”

 There was a heavy silence as the two looked at each other, and if Thorin could have, he would have discreetly melted into the floor and disappeared. But to get up from the table and walk away would be a too great disturbance.

 “You’ll have the maps tomorrow,” Glóin said finally, letting out a weary sigh.  
  
“Why not now?”  
  
“Because I need to _make_ them.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yes, that’s why you couldn’t find them. Don’t pretend that you’ve not searched for them.”

 Nori did have the decency to look a little guilty. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Glóin sighed. “I know you, lass. It’s alright.”  
  
“I didn’t-“  
  
“Nori, it’s fine.”  
  
Feeling that he really shouldn’t be a part of this particular conversation Thorin got to his feet, wincing at the loud noise his chair made as he pushed it across the floor.  
  
“I think I best get to bed. I expect I’ll talk to you both in the morning.”  
  
“Will you join the expedition?” Nori asked.

“I- I’ll let you know.”  
  
“Decide fast. We’ll be going as soon as Bluebeard feels that he’s gotten enough people to stand between him and any potential Darkspawn. Or just between him and the Deepstalkers,” she added with a pointed look at Glóin when he opened his mouth to make a comment. “I can probably talk Bluebeard into paying you more since you’ve actually fought the Darkspawn before. And I’d personally pay you more just on account of not being an arsehole. Damn, but most of the people he’s got to sign on are bastards. Half of them wouldn’t stop staring at my chest.”  
  
Glóin’s frowned but before he could make a comment Thorin spoke up.  
  
“What would it take to get a share of the profits instead of being paid?” Going as a hired sword to kill potential enemies would not earn him enough coin to take care of his family. If he would do this, it would at least have to be worth it.

“You’d need to provide something that we need, that we can’t get from anyone else.” Nori snorted. “Right now that’s money. Simple as that. With more money, we could more easily hire the people we need to get going, and get some more supplies as well.”  
  
Ah.  
  
“I see,” Thorin said slowly. “Good night.”  
  
-  
  
Sleep proved to be elusive that night and the next morning Thorin joined the others for breakfast, feeling as if his head was filled with cotton.

“Go back to bed,” Glóin snorted. “And if you wake up before noon, come and join us in the shop. If not you could do me a favour instead. There’s some ale in the basement, I’ve promised to deliver that to the Hanged Man.”  
  
“Why would a hanged man need ale?” Thorin murmured.  
  
“It’s a tavern, silly,” Dís snickered.  
  
“What do you know about taverns?” Thorin frowned and look at his father. “What does she know about taverns?”  
  
“More than you apparently,” Thráin said and calmly buttered a piece of bread.  
  
“Nori took me there,” Dís said, and that was a sentence that didn’t much calm Thorin’s nerves.

“When was this?”  
  
“Oh stop it.” Dís picked up a bread roll, was about to throw it at her brother, and then she glanced at Glóin and lowered her arm.  
  
“I don’t mind, lass,” Glóin chuckled.  
  
It was a true testament of how tired Thorin was that he didn’t manage to duck away from the bread, well, either that or he’d expected Dís aim to be a lot poorer than it actually was.  
  
“Nori has been teaching me how to throw knives,” Dís said proudly.  
  
“I’m going back to bed,” Thorin muttered, getting up from the table.  
  
“I’ll leave you the directions to the Hanged Man on the kitchen counter,” Glóin said. “Because you’re eating something before you leave.”

“I’m not a child,” Thorin grumped. Why was Glóin so chipper anyway? He and Nori had still been talking when Thorin had gone to bed. They couldn’t really have gotten much sleep either, especially if Glóin had stayed awake to make the maps.  
  
“You’re my child,” Thráin pointed out, and muttering to himself Thorin marched out of the kitchen, climbed the stairs and more or less fell into his bed.  
  
This time sleep came almost at once and when he woke up the sun was definitely past noon.  
  
-

He’d expected Glóin’s directions to be of the ‘turn left at the ugly house with the broken window’ variation, but instead it’d been a very neatly drawn map. Perhaps not that surprising considering what Nori and Glóin had talked about, but so much of that conversation seemed like a dream.  
  
An expedition to search for a long lost thaig filled with treasure… that indeed sounded like a bedtime story for children.

Glóin had also left him an actual note, telling him where the ale was and where to find a small cart to pull it on, and without eating breakfast – _hah_ – Thorin set off for the Hanged Man.  
  
As he arrived outside the tavern he actually discovered a statue of an hanged man suspended over the front door. How… fitting. And of poor taste.  
  
The inside of the tavern was a lot more clean and pleasant than Thorin had suspected. Most everything was done in wood with lavishly carved decorations, and even though he had little experience with wood, Thorin could see the skill that had gone into making the furniture.

Another thing that took Thorin by surprise was the small blond sitting by the counter, legs dangling a bit awkwardly as the stool was taller than he was.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
The little man’s head whipped around and his shoulders tensed before instantly relaxing when he saw who had spoken.  
  
“Thorin, hello,” he smiled.  
  
Leaving the cart next to the wall Thorin walked up to Bilbo who hopped down onto the floor to greet him.  
  
“Is it… safe for you here?” Thorin asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.  
  
“Quite safe,” Bilbo promised, still smiling.  
  
“But it’s so close to the Gallows,” Thorin said, taking another step closer to Bilbo so he wouldn’t need to raise his voice. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Oh, I come here often, but the Templars do not. If they do they would regret it.””  
  
“But-“  
  
“Is he bothering you?”  
  
Thorin looked up, and up, and _up_.  
  
The person who had spoken was a giant of a man. He seemed to stretch the entire way to the ceiling, and next to Thorin and Bilbo he seemed impossibly tall, like an unusually hairy mountain.

“We’re just talking, Beorn,” Bilbo said with a friendly smile. “I promise you, things are quite all right.”  
  
The man looked sceptical. “I’ll be watching. And you, don’t stand so close to him.”  
  
“I’m not-“ Thorin began, and then realised that he was standing close enough to see the tiny flecks of green in Bilbo’s eyes and took a step back. “Oh. My apologies.”  
  
The large man nodded approvingly, and with another look at Bilbo he disappeared into a side room.  
  
Bilbo shook his head and laughed softly. “As I was saying, I’m quite safe here. And Beorn is just one of the reasons why.”

“He’s the owner I take it?”  
  
Bilbo nodded and Thorin snorted. “Figures, I’ve got a cart of ale for him, from Glóin. My cousin. The merchant?” Stop talking, Thorin sternly told himself.  
  
“Oh, well, I can call him back?” As Bilbo drew in the breath to do so Thorin reached out and touched his arm.  
  
“No wait, I- Can I ask you something?”

“Is this about the expedition?” Bilbo smiled at Thorin’s surprise. “Nori stopped by last night, said that you are joining her.”  
  
Thorin snorted. “She mentioned the expedition to me on the day I first met you, but I was only told the details last night. I think she’s smiting before the iron has reddened.”

“Nori usually gets what she wants,” Bilbo said with a crooked smile. “She just needs a bit of time. So will you give her yours?”  
  
“Can I trust her? That’s what I want to ask.”  
  
“Why would you ask _me_?” Bilbo’s eyebrows climbed towards his curls. “This is the second time you’ve met me. I-“  
  
“Because I trust you, you saved my father. And that boy. And-“ Thorin hesitated. “You risk your life to help other people. I don’t think you’d lie to me.”  
  
“You realise that doesn’t really make sense.” Bilbo’s smile was a bit sad. “You can help someone without being a good person. It’s not how it works.”  
  
Thorin scoffed. “Then what would you say makes someone a good person? If doing good things won’t do it?”  
  
“I merely meant that you shouldn’t trust someone you don’t know, just because you think you know _something_ about them. You don’t know what I do when I don’t-“  
  
“Risk your life to help other people?”  
  
Bilbo shook his head but didn’t reply.  
  
“Can I trust Nori?” Thorin asked again.  
  
“Nori is my friend,” the little man said, looking up at Thorin with unwavering hazel eyes.  
  
“That’s not an answer to my question. Do you trust her with your life? With your biggest secret?”  
  
If he was to go on the expedition, then there would be no stopping Dís from coming. If they didn’t tell Nori about her magic then it was possible that she wouldn’t be _allowed_ to come, but… Dís would want to tell her. She and Nori had apparently become fast friends if throwing knives and spending times in taverns were anything to go by.  
  
Thorin didn’t really doubt Nori’s conviction in her plan; she most definitely seemed clever enough to know what she was doing, and her friendship with Bilbo was certainly a point in her favour when it came to sharing Dís’ secret, but before his sister would do such a thing Thorin needed to hear someone else’s opinion on the matter. And not only did he trust Bilbo, Bilbo was also a Mage. Who obviously trusted Nori.  
  
“I’d trust her with my life yes,” Bilbo said with a nod. “But not with my biggest secret.”  
  
Thorin tilted his head. “Forgive me, but that sounds a little strange.” Thorin had rather assumed that Bilbo would if anything reply with that answer reversed. If his magic wasn’t his biggest secret, then what could it be?  
  
“My life is mine, and I can do with it as I wish, but secrets can be bigger than only one person.”  
  
That Thorin knew very well. “I-“  
  
“You’re still here.” The big man was back, glaring at him from the doorway he’d disappeared into before.

“It turns out that it was really you he wanted to see, Beorn” Bilbo said with a smile. “He’s got a delivery of ale for you, from his cousin Glóin. The merchant.”  
  
When Bilbo turned the teasing smile at him, Thorin rather helplessly smiled back.  
  
-  
  
“Glóin, may I speak to you?”  
  
“Sure, lad,” the redheaded Dwarf said without looking up from his ledger. “One moment more, I don’t want to lose my place.”  
  
Thorin leaned against the wall and Glóin chuckled without looking up. “When I said a moment I was perhaps not entirely truthful, take a seat, Thorin.”  
  
With a small snort Thorin did so, entertaining himself by studying the books in Glóin’s book case until the red-headed Dwarf looked up from the number-filled notebook and nodded at him.  
  
“Right, so what did you want?”  
  
“Should I go on the expedition with you?”  
  
At once Glóin’s smile melted away. “I’m not actually going, lad,” he said tiredly. “I can’t. I can’t go down there again. I don’t even like being below ground any more. Some Dwarf I make.”

“Oh,” Thorin said, trying to school his expression in something a little less shocked. “Well, I’d say you have good reason.” He hesitated but then placed his hand over Glóin’s on the table. “You lost your brother.”  
  
“And you and Dís and my cousin lost yours on the surface, but you’re still here.” Glóin sighed. ”And as for if you should stay here or… I can’t decide that for you.”  
  
“Do you trust Nori?”  
  
“I do.” Glóin smiled wryly. “Not to not help herself to a pretty trinket should she find one she liked, regardless of if it already had an owner or not, but in the ways that count I do.”  
  
“She’s a thief?” Thorin blinked at Glóin.  
  
“Lad, you’d think you’ve _not_ been living with me for the past few weeks. But no, not really. Not anymore. Not my story to tell though.”  
  
“I feel like everyone is telling me that lately,” Thorin muttered and Glóin snorted.  
  
“Then perhaps you are asking the wrong people the wrong questions. Ever think of that?”  
  
-  
  
Thráin was not happy about the possibility of one of his children going into the Deep Roads, never mind two.  
  
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it would be worth it,” Thorin said, head held high. “And I’ve only told Dís because I don’t want her to come running after me.”  
  
“Damn right I would,” Dís muttered. “You can’t be allowed to go anywhere on your own.”  
  
“There’s every reason to believe that there won’t be any Darkspawn,” Thorin told his father. “And if we’re successful, then we’ll have the money to not only live comfortably in Kirkwall, we could also go back to Orzammar, and when the Blight is over, we’d even have enough coin to attempt to reclaim Erebor.”  
  
“And you will get all this coin from offering your sister and yourself to any potential Darkspawn?” Thráin said darkly.  
  
“I’m going to talk Nori’s partner into letting me become a partner as well.” Thorin crossed his arms over his chest. “Nori will help me if we tell her about Dís’ magic, I’m sure of it.”  
  
“Thorin,” Thráin said, disapproval heavy in his voice.  
  
“Father, that was actually my idea,” Dís interrupted. “It’s worth the risk. And we’d only tell need to tell Nori. No one else would know unless-“  
  
“Unless they actually saw you cast a spell?” Thráin shook his head. “My darling daughter, this could end so very badly”  
  
“Or with great success,” Thorin pointed out. “Dís would only use her magic if it was absolutely necessary. And-“  
  
“You’ve already decided that you are going to attempt this, have you not?”  
  
Thorin and Dís glanced at each other and then Dís nodded.  
  
“Then you leave me little other choice except to offer my blessings.” Thráin sighed and reached out his arms and his children gladly folded themselves into his embrace. “But I will admit that I hope you won’t be able to talk Nori or her partner into this foolishness.”  
  
-  
  
“No, no, no more sisters.” Nori waved her hands. Thorin and Dís were sitting together on Thorin’s bed while Nori had appropriated Thorin’s chair.  
  
“It’s bad enough that mine has talked themselves into tagging along, Stone only knows how that happened. But at least they’ve convinced me that they’ll be useful.” Clever green eyes looked thoughtfully at Dís. “What makes you think you would be? You’re not _that_ good at throwing knives.”

Dís rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”  
  
“No need for lip, you’ve only started.” Nori tilted her head and swept her eyes over Dís’ form again. “Can you handle a sword after all then? You’d not think it by- oh.”  
  
“ _Oh_ , well that would do it,” Nori said and looked at the blue flame in Dís’ palm. “That’s useful indeed. But if I may be so bold to ask how by the ancestors _beards_ you are able to do something like that?”  
  
Dís shrugged and closed her hand, the flame disappearing. “I don’t know, I’ve always been able to.”  
  
“She’s the real reason why the Darkspawn didn’t get us,” Thorin said, wrapping his arm around Dís’ shoulders. “And to quote you, if you tell anyone about what you’ve just seen, there’s sure to be an _accident_.”  
  
“I don’t sound nearly that ridiculous,” Nori said dismissively, but try as she might to act unaffected her eyes were a fair bit bigger than usual. “Who else knows?”  
  
“Our father and Dwalin,” Thorin said shortly. “Both for obvious reasons. You can’t tell this partner of yours unless you trust him compl-“  
  
“Of course I’m not going to tell old Bluebeard,” Nori scoffed. “Are you out of your mind? He’d sell her to the Templars, and believe me, they’d pay good coin for the chance to try and figure out why a Dwarf can do magic. _But_ ,” Nori nodded at Dís. “-that poses the delicate question of how exactly you’re going to come along and be useful without showing off exactly _how_ you can be useful.”

“Tell your partner that you’ve seen me fight or something like that,” Dís suggested. “And that it was really impressive. If the Deep Roads are as calm as you hope, I won’t even be needed. And if I am… we’ll deal with it then.”  
  
“Though if you can talk her out of coming, feel free,” Thorin said crossing his arms.

“As I’ve said, I've not been able to talk my own sisters out of coming.” Nori gave them a ruefully grin. “I tried forbidding them but then Dori forbade me right back. And then I got my just desserts for bothering Glóin about the expedition because they both started a campaign to tell me exactly why they should be allowed to join.”  
  
“They’re fighters?” Thorin asked.  
  
“Oh, not even close,” Nori snorted. “True, Dori could probably bash your face in with her pinky, and she could probably _glare_ any Darkspawn into submission. But she would rather not because it might crease her dress. And Ori… well, she’s a scholar.” The redhead shrugged but Thorin could see the proud light in her eyes. “She’ll be very useful if we find any inscriptions or old tomes. Or anything like that. Who knows, we might be able to find a whole new set of maps.”  
  
“Oh,” Dís blinked. “I know something I can help with.”  
  
Thorin and Nori both looked at her.  
  
“I realised when you said inscriptions, I can- I’ve been practising.” Dís bit her lip. “Perhaps I could just show you? I’ll just run over to my room?”  
  
She did so and Thorin and Nori were left looking at each other.  
  
“I’m not going to tell her that she can’t come,” Nori said somewhat apologetically. “She can do _magic_.”  
  
“I’d not expected you to tell her no,” Thorin sighed. “And if I had wanted to talk you into it I would have talked to you in private first. No matter how much I dislike it, it’s her decision.”  
  
“Not just a pretty face,” Nori said with a kind smile, and Thorin chuckled and shook his head dismissively.  
  
“Alright,” Dís said as she breezed back into the room. “So I found these stones, and Dwalin helped me make the symbols on them.” She emptied the bag she was holding onto the bed and about a dozen similar sized stones tumbled out. Thorin picked one up and turned it around to find a circle carved into the centre of it.  
  
“I’ll close my eyes and you’ll give me one, with the symbol facing upwards, and I’ll tell you which one? They all weigh about the same, I even checked on Glóin’s scales.”

Dís closed her eyes and wiggled her fingers. “Come on then.”  
  
Putting the one with the circle down Thorin looked through the others and picked up one with the rune for power on it. He placed it into Dís’ palm expected her to close her hand around it. But she’d no sooner had it touch her skin before she declared it to be the rune for power.  
  
Opening one eye she glanced down and a satisfied smile came to her face.  
  
“And you don’t know it from the weights you say?” Nori asked.  
  
“I don’t think I do,” Dís said with a small shrug, rubbing her thumb over the edge of the stone. “I just, _feel_ what’s on the stone? I’ve tried holding all of the stones but one, and I can tell which one I’m not holding, but I’ve not really found anything big to try it on. If it works the same, then I could maybe-“ she snorted. “Well, _touch_ things. It’s not just the inscriptions I feel. I can tell if there are cracks, or if it’s just one kind of stone. It’s not really obvious what I’m doing, so it could be helpful.”  
  
“I dare say it could,” Nori murmured. “I’d rather not have a bridge collapse beneath my feet unless it’s completely necessary.”  
  
She made it sound as if it had already happened and Thorin snorted but didn’t ask. He’d probably just be told that it was none of his business.  
  
“We’ve convinced you then?” he asked instead. “You’ll talk to your partner?”  
  
“Oh, you’re coming with,” Nori said absently. “But not you, Dís. Sorry, but he’s a pig. I don’t want to scare you away. I figure if you only meet him when we’re about to leave you’ll already be packed and unpacking without having gone somewhere is so dreary you’ll just decide to come.”

“Great,” Thorin said, because he’d not expected anything different and Dís didn’t need to come since they wouldn’t exactly be pointing out what exactly she would bring. “We’ve a deal then.”  
  
“I guess so,” Nori said. “Welcome to the expedition. May we all get filthy rich. Can you do something else now?” she asked Dís. “Bilbo never does very _interesting_ magic.”  
  
Giggling Dís whispered something and an orb of ice formed in her hand. “Ice, fire and stone is what I’m best at,” Dís explained as she walked over to hand the ice to Nori. “I’m sorry, but I can’t even seem to heal a paper cut.”  
  
“I’m trying to get Bilbo to join us,” Nori said as Dís let the ice slide into her hands. “And I think I just got a lot closer to doing so. Oh don’t worry,” she added when a frown creased Thorin’s face. “I’m really not going to tell anyone about the magic thing. Not to say that I don’t think you should tell him, because you _should_ tell him.”  
  
Dís shook her head. “I’ve not even met him.”  
  
“That can certainly be arranged,” Nori promised as she turned the orb of ice over in her hands with a frankly gleeful smile. After that the conversation drifted to other things and Thorin entirely forgot to ask just why Nori thought that their inclusion would mean that Bilbo would be more interested in joining the expedition.  
  
-

“Fair warning,” Nori said just before she opened the door to Bluebeard’s home (knocking was apparently not something Nori particularly enjoyed). “He really is a complete bastard, especially when it comes to business. Don’t lose your temper.”

“Yes you said. Or rather, the word pig was mentioned,” Thorin said drily. “Do you ever give anyone a proper period of warning before springing something on them?”  
  
“I need to see if you’re able to think on your feet,” she smiled, showing a great deal of teeth. “Otherwise you’ll hardly be of any use. And after what you and your sister sprung on me last night, this is nothing.”

Thorin snorted and motioned for her to open the door. “Fair enough I suppose.”  
  
-

Bluebeard ran his thick, heavily adorned fingers through his disappointingly not-blue beard.  
  
“And why exactly should I allow you to join this expedition. We don’t need more muscle.”

“That’s a damned lie and you know it, Bluebeard.” Nori rolled her eyes. “For some reason, people haven’t exactly been clamouring to get involved since they remember what happened to Glóin’s brother and most of the ones who joined that expedition.”

“Then what makes him special?” Bluebeard ran his eyes down what he could see of Thorin. “You two fucking? Or why am I even talking to you instead of someone of the brawnier people we could get?”

“Because you’re going to agree to let me join the expedition,” Thorin said calmly. “As a partner.”

The older Dwarf burst out laughing. “I am, am I? And what’s in it for me, pretty boy? I’m not interested in fucking you if that’s how you’ve managed to get Nori to buy into this idea. Though… Thorin was it? I heard you do know how to use a sword. I also heard you have an even prettier sister.”

Nori’s nails dug into Thorin’s thigh beneath the table, and he gritted his teeth.

“I do have experience fighting Darkspawn. My sister does as well. For that reason alone, we would be of use to you. It would not be my first journey into the Deep Roads either-“ not a lie, but far from the whole truth. “And we would also work for free.”  
  
A bushy eyebrow climbed high on the lined forehead. “You said that you wanted to be a partner?”

“If we find something I want a share.” Thorin shrugged. “If we find nothing, you won’t need to pay me and my sister for our time.”  
  
“When you say share, what do you mean exactly,” Bluebeard asked, leaning back in his chair.  
  
“One fourteenth.” Thorin didn’t as much as twitch when the other Dwarf began to laugh again and Nori’s nails pulled themselves out of his thigh.  
  
“You’re certainly a bold one,” Bluebeard chuckled. “But let me tell you; fortune favours the bold? That’s a damned lie. I’m not going to let you have a fourteenth of the treasure simply because you _tell_ me that you’ve fought Darkspawn before.”  
  
“Neither would I,” Nori said with a shrug. “But I’d give it to him _and_ his sister. I’ve seen what she can do with my own eyes and it’s impressive indeed. If he’s half as deadly you could replace about four of your men with the two of them. Five if what Glóin’s told me is true. Eight if that cousin of Glóin’s decides to join as well, which he might since he’s their friend. And if you say that he’s going to represent Glóin you won’t need to pay him either. That’s a fair bit of coin saved, Bluebeard. Not to mention that’s coin saved of the coin you _have_. You can afford to be generous with gold you only hope to get. And…” Nori leaned back into her chair and smiled smugly. “I’m also happy to inform you that I think I’ve talked my Grey Warden into joining us.”  
  
“But a fourteenth,” the Dwarf protested and Nori shot him a grin. Thorin fought not to roll his eyes. All that information and he immediately bounced right back to the size of the share. No wonder he was coming along to keep an eye on things.  
  
“If we find a fortune then you’ll still be rich even with a fourteenth less.” Nori shrugged. “If we don’t find a fortune you’d not be rich regardless.”  
  
“An eighteenth,” Bluebeard offered, holding out his hand to Thorin.  
  
“A fourteenth.”  
  
“You’re not getting more than a sixteenth.”  
  
Thorin glanced at Nori who ever so slightly nodded her head.  
  
“We have a deal,” Thorin agreed, reaching out to clasp Bluebeard’s hand.  
  
-

After that everything went by in a mad rush and before Thorin knew it, the day of departure had come.

-

“You take care of each other,” Thráin murmured as he wrapped both Thorin and Dís into his arms. “And you come back to me.”  
  
“We’ll come bearing treasure,” Thorin mumbled into his father’s beard and Thráin’s arms tightened around them.  
  
“Just come back.”  
  
-  
  
Regardless of what Glóin had said, from Nori's description of how her older sister could have glared a Darkspawn into submission Thorin had expected someone less... beautiful. Most striking about her was her copper-coloured hair interspersed with broad streaks of silver, all done up in intricate braids and collected into a bun at the nape of her neck, but even so the rest of her was not something to scoff at. Still. Thorin casually elbowed Dwalin when his friend wouldn't stop staring.  
  
"Your jaw is on the floor. You might want to pick it up before we leave."  
  
"Shut up," Dwalin muttered, but he did return to going through his pack one last time.   
  
Nori had been right in saying that he would come along once he learnt that Thorin and Dís were going, and she had been fairly smug about it too. Thorin was glad to have him, besides Dís there was no one he trusted more to have his back, and he didn’t really like the look of most of the crew Bluebeard had hired.  
  
Leaving Dwalin to collect his tongue and jaw, Thorin wandered over to where Nori was holding court. “I thought you said that Bilbo was coming?” Thorin asked her in a hushed voice.  
  
"He's hardly going to come this near to the Gallows is he?" she replied, exasperation heavy in her voice.  
  
Oh. They were standing in the Gallows’ courtyard and now Thorin felt rather stupid. "Right."  
  
"He'll meet us in Darktown. He’ll have no issue getting there without being mugged or murdered, but I’d rather not have this lot try and go there on their own. Don’t fret."  
  
"I'm not fretting."  
  
"Only because I would say Dori has done enough fretting for the rest of Thedas for the next Age."  
  
"I-" Thorin hesitated. "Do you trust the honour of Bluebeard's crew? Your sister is very beautiful. Both of them are."

The youngest had fiery hair in simple braids, a neatly cropped fringe and a sweet look about her. She was not a classic beauty the same way her oldest sister was, nor Nori’s more sensual appeal, but certainly she was pretty enough to catch more than a few stares of her own, and Thorin rather hoped it would stay at stares.  
  
Nori snorted. "Wait and see what happens when someone offends Dori. I'd worry more about Dís or yourself, _pretty boy_." The red-head's smile grew wider. "But we both know what your sister can do, and if you keep that scowl up…” Nori knocked their shoulders together. “Excellent tactic. Then again it's more about power than about rutting anyway, which is why it's a great relief to me that Dori's sense for politeness and good manners does not hinder her from shedding blood when necessary. Quite the opposite even."  
  
Thorin still looked unconvinced and Nori patted him on the shoulder. "No one is to go anywhere alone. And even if certain people are as stupid as they look I don't think they'd try anything in a crowd. But if you’re nervous you can put your bedroll next to mine. I promise-"  
  
A loud smack was heard and Thorin turned his head to find Dori glaring up at a man who just pressed his hand to his bleeding nose.  
  
"My hand seems to have _slipped_ as well."  
  
"It was a compliment!"  
  
"Then please keep those to yourself if you wish to keep your arms."  
  
Dori reached out and snagged a bead from one of the nearby Dwarves and proceeded to press it flat between her thumb and index finger.  
  
Noticing that Dwalin was staring at her with a decidedly moony expression Thorin sighed and went over to shake him out of it before Dori noticed. He really did consider Dwalin a friend at this point and friends did not let each other get beaten up for being infatuated.  
  
“She’s amazing,” Dwalin told Thorin dreamily and the dark-haired Dwarf pointedly pressed his pack into his arms with a little too much force .  
  
“Start figuring out your most _diplomatic_ ways of phrasing that then,” Thorin suggested and laughed at the sour face Dwalin made.

-

“So where’s your Grey Warden, Nori?” Bluebeard asked as they had gathered again outside the gates to the Deep Roads. Blight or not, the Darkspawn activity must never be very bad, Thorin surmised, or else there surely would be guards posted outside the gates? Even if the city guards wouldn’t really care about the people in Darktown, then surely they must understand the potential problem if that part of the city were lost to the tainted creatures.  
  
“Don’t tell me, he’s off fighting Darkspawn and couldn’t make it? Very sorry, let’s go anyway, it’ll be alright?”

“I’m crushed that you don’t trust me,” Nori said with a crooked smile. “Crushed.” Ignoring them Thorin looked around and tried to see if Bilbo had shown up yet. It made sense to bring a healer, even if Thorin wasn't sure it was wise to let Bilbo come. What if he got hurt.

“Sure, sure,” Bluebeard scoffed. “Well, I’m not hearing any excuses, so where is he?”

“Oh, he’s here.” Nori’s smile was beatific.

“Is he bloody invisible then?” Bluebeard growled. “Or is he small enough to fit into your damned pocket?”  
  
“Not quite,” a familiar voice said. When everyone turned to look at him Bilbo waved his hand. “Hello.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bluebeard said, disbelief colouring his voice. “The Mage? A Grey Warden? No bloody way.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo, realised that his mouth was open in an undignified gape and hurriedly closed it. Bilbo was not only a Mage but also a _Grey Warden_?”  
  
“You can’t believe him,” Bluebeard protested. “He’s got to be lying. You can’t trust Mages anyway.”

“If we ignore how you’re an arse, and how it would be bloody stupid to lie about something that could only end up getting him into potentially lethal situations…” Nori rolled her eyes. “I know he’s not lying. So don’t trust him, trust me. And you’ve trusted me well enough so far.”

“Why aren’t you off fighting in Ferelden? heard that your kind was killed like flies in some battle,” one of Bluebeards crew sneered.

“I’m a Grey Warden in all the ways that could be beneficial for this quest, and in some way that will have no impact on it, but I have left the order.” Bilbo’s voice was calm and firm. “I am not required to go where they command me.”  
  
“They made him late for dinner,” Nori supplied, shaking her head sadly. “Those bastards. I’d have left too.”

“Hang on, the Grey Wardens were killed?” someone else asked.

“Yeah, I just heard the news the other day. Battle of Ostagar. Their queen, the Ferelden one I mean, not that the Grey have queens, but anyway, she was killed, along with the Wardens and a not insignificant number of soldiers. Some say the she was betrayed by the Teyrn of Gwaren. Some say the Grey Wardens betrayed them both and suffered for it.”

“That’s not good,” the man who had asked said and scratched his head. “What about prince Aragorn?”  
  
“Who the bloody fuck cares,” Bluebeard complained.

“It’s all right. They’ll find a way.” Bilbo’s gaze turned distant. “It’s what Grey Wardens do. No matter the cost.”

“Great,” Bluebeard said, clapping his hands together. “They’re fine, Blondie here is a Grey Warden. That’s settled then. Can’t say I care much about what happens over in Ferelden, but I’d hate for those damned tainted things to crawl over to the Free Marches in the thousands, so here’s hoping you’re right even if you’re a Mage.”

“Ever the diplomat,” Nori said. “Considering that most of the people here have their roots in Ferelden you might want to-.”

“Bah,” the Dwarf scoffed. “Sentimental idiocy. You’re all here now aren’t you. And besides, don’t try and talk me into thinking that _you_ miss it.”

“Are we going to stand around all day talking, or are we actually going to go into the Deep Roads?” Dís asked and tapped her foot. She didn’t notice the flash of surprise that crossed Bilbo’s face and the double take he did when he looked at her, but Thorin did.  
  
Still, compared to Nori’s sisters Dís looked immensely more suited to go into the Deep Roads, dressed as she was in sensible clothes and leather armour. She only needed to stop patting the long dagger at her hip; a gift from Nori, as if it was a puppy clamouring for her attention.  
  
Dori, the older of the three sisters, had a mace, and while Thorin didn’t doubt that she could use it she was still wearing a dress, and he could only hope that Nori had convinced her to wear some sort of armour beneath it. And while the youngest, Ori, had armour, and also a crossbow strapped to her back, Thorin had also seen the slingshot sticking out of her pocket and the less said about that the better.

“Sure thing, beautiful,” Bluebeard said with a shrug. “No need to get in a huff about it.”

“You’re an arse,” Nori sighed. “Dís, ignore him. At least until we get into the Deep Roads, then you can make it look like an accident.”

“Funny.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Going with Glóin’ and Nori’s maps this should lead to the quickest path to where we want to go,” Bilbo said as Bluebeards crew opened the door. “I’ve explored the tunnels for quite some distance, but not all the way to the intersection that we’ll need to get to.”

“Which means that you’ll let me and Bilbo take the lead, and you’ll listen to what we have to say,” Nori instructed.

“Time’s wasting,” Bluebeard growled. “We’re not getting rich standing here. Let’s go.”  
  
When Bilbo passed Thorin he glanced at him and gave a quick smile. Confused as he still was – a _Grey Warden_? – Thorin smiled back. When Dwalin thumped him on the back of the head he turned to glare at his friend.  
  
“And what was that for?”  
  
“Just returning the favour,” Dwalin muttered, and refused to answer any further questions Thorin had on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lyrium](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Lyrium)
> 
> [Deep Roads](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Deep_Roads)


	8. Present

“Wait, are you telling me that none of you knew what you were going to find down there?”  
  
“How could we possibly know?” Ori asked. “We thought we were just looking for an abandoned thaig, and treasure. If we’d know what we would find, things would have happened differently.”  
  
“Is that so?” the Seeker asked, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
“Of course,” Ori huffed. “Everyone who went, went because of loyalty, coin or the adventure. Mostly the coin I would say judging by the people Bluebeard hired. But none of us intended to stumble over something that would eventually lead to- to-” Ori’s hands flailed a bit as she searched for the right words to describe what Bilbo had caused. “-to a _war_! To so many people dying and the Chantry-“

“So you’re claiming that not even the Mage knew. I find that hard to believe.”  
  
“If he’d known, then why wouldn’t he just have gone off on his own? One person can move a lot quicker than almost three dozen and it’s not like he needed us the way we needed him. We were just looking for treasure. And maybe-” Ori bit her bottom lip. “Maybe a new home? It was a lost thaig that we were looking for after all. Lost things does not need to be lost forever.”  
  
Nori had made it out to be only about the treasure, but Ori knew that her sister had actually been one of the few who had gone because of the adventure. Not that she minded coin, but if that was all she'd wanted, there were better ways of going about getting it.  
  
“Continue your story.”  
  
Ori looked up at the Seeker. “Do you believe me then? Because if you don’t, then I don’t see the point.”  
  
“Keep talking and we’ll see. What exactly happened in the Deep Roads? My sources told me that you went there led by the Mage, in search of that stone-“  
  
“The Arkenstone.” That was what had been written on the stone tablet they'd found.  
  
“Yes. But you’re telling me that you did not. So continue.”  
  
Ori sighed. “As I said, lost things does not need to be lost forever. But perhaps some things should be. It took us about a week to get down to the right depth. And during that week we saw no trace of the Darkspawn. Bilbo had been right, they must all have gone into the tunnels that connected with the Deep Roads in Ferelden. We didn’t see any deepstalkers either or anything living but for ourselves.“  
  
On hindsight, perhaps that should have been a sign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Deepstalker](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Deepstalker)


	9. Chapter Five – Enemies Amongst Us

Some parts of Erebor made it possible for the sun and moonlight to stream down, and usually it was only the casteless; the ones living in Erebor’s poorest districts, who lived their entire lives without ever seeing the light from the surface.  
  
Not that the light was something that was sought after, very few Dwarves considered the surface to be better than their home in the stone, but Dwarves were rather practical by their nature.  
  
In Erebor the entrance hall had narrow windows to the outside simply because it meant that it would be illuminated during the day without anyone having to bother overly much with lanterns and torches. The windows could quickly and easily be closed and boarded up in cases of storms, unwanted visitors, or just to stop the leaves from blowing inside during the autumn and winter months (much to the children’s disappointment as leaf-hunting was somewhat of a preferred pastime).

But it was of course not necessary to have the sun and moon as sources of light. The Ancestors would never have built their kingdoms dependant on anything from the outside. Not to mention that in the Deep Roads it would be close to impossible to have the light shine down. Nor would it be very practical to need to carry a supply of torches or oil for the lanterns as the Deep Roads stretched for countless of miles beneath the surface, and even during the days before all but a few thaigs had been abandoned, to travel between two thaigs could still take weeks.  
  
To help make the journey as easy and comfortable as possible the great architects and builders who had planned and formed the Deep Roads had made sure to there were ducts of flowing lava set into the walls, both to provide warmth and to provide enough light to travel by without needing to bring torches. The warm, golden-red light was a marvel of Dwarven engineering and ingenuity, but tragically, few of the Dwarves living in the Dragon Age would ever venture into the Deep Roads to see it for themselves. And fewer still would come back to tell of what they had seen.  
  
The Deep Roads expedition was not the first time Thorin had ever gone into the Deep Roads. It was the second. And the first should never have happened. He’d been young, and terribly stupid.

When an earth quake had opened up a passage into the Deep Roads he and a few friends had discovered it long before any of the adults had. Instead of doing something sensible; like telling the guards, they had decided to explore.  
  
One of them had almost not made it back.  
  
They’d rushed in, not marked their path, and they had gotten lost. Stone sense could tell them which direction they were supposed to head in to get back to the heart of Erebor, but what did that help when they couldn’t find the paths that would allow them to do so?  
  
They could not tunnel through the stone, at least not with their bare hands and they had of course not brought any tools beyond toy swords and made-up maps of where they were going.

They had never seen any Darkspawn, but their presence had still been noticeable. Not in the least when Ginnar got caught in one of their traps. He never walked on that foot again and if it hadn’t been for Linna’s quick thinking he would probably have bled to death during the full day it took for anyone to find them.  
  
When they heard the search party they had first assumed it to be Darkspawn and when Thorin saw his father coming towards them from the shadow his knees had decided that they’d had enough excitement for one day and he’d ungracefully fallen down on his backside.  
  
When they’d gotten back to Erebor Ginnar had just barely been hanging on. If he had died, then it was possible that the rest of them would have met a harsher punishment than merely being disciplined by their parents as they saw fit.  
  
Not only had they risked their own lives, but by not telling anyone about the fissure leading into the Deep Roads, they had also put everyone else in Erebor at risk, some had argued that that alone would stand as basis for a severe punishment, but due to their young age the council had decided to be merciful.  
  
Thorin had never really imagined that he’d ever have reason, or desire, to go down into the Deep Roads again, but there he was. And to his surprise he found that he rather enjoyed it, except for the walking.

The days and night in the Deep Roads blended together in a way that Thorin was not used to. And it wasn’t the lack of change in the soft, warm glow from the lava, It was how they did nothing but walk and walk and walk. And talk. After all, they had nothing better to do.

-  
  
“You keep looking at him,” Dís murmured.  
  
“I do not,” Thorin protested, then bit his tongue as he realised what he’d admitted to. “I mean, who-?“  
  
“Oh don’t even,” his sister snorted. “I even approve. He is lovely, for a human. And have you seen the size of his boots? You know what they say of men with big feet?”  
  
“Apparently that they have big boots,” Thorin said drily, pretending that his ears weren’t burning. So what if he happened to look more at Bilbo than at anyone else down in the Deep Roads. None of the others were nearly as interesting. Not because he was pretty; not to say that he wasn't; not to say Thorin thought- oh _bother_. But a Mage _and_ a Grey Warden. Now that was interesting.  
  
“Don’t think I’ve not seen you looking as well.”  
  
“I’m not looking at Bilbo,” Dís protested and Thorin shushed her because did she really have to be so loud?  
  
“No, but I didn’t say you were looking at _him_.”  
  
They both paused, because this would be the point where Frerin would interject something about how they were both being stupid, but of course that comment never came. And as one they sighed.  
  
Thorin gave Dís a rueful look and reached out to take her hand. He knew from the morose look in her eyes that she had thought the exact same thing as he had.  
  
“Sometimes I think we’re too much alike,” Dís murmured, squeezing his hand. “And I wonder who is going to keep us from simply smacking our big heads together all the time. Because father won’t, he’ll just grab our ears and smack them for us. Our heads I mean.”  
  
“And then ask us if we’re done already,” Thorin smiled.  
  
“Frerin would have liked this, going on an adventure.”

“He would,” Thorin agreed. “Unless we find spiders.”  
  
“He really hated spiders.” Dís hand tightened around Thorin’s again. “I hate spiders too. I just, I never said because I wanted him to think that he was being silly.”  
  
“I’m shocked and appalled, sister.” Thorin shook his head. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”  
  
“Ha, ha,” Dís said and nudged her shoulder against Thorin’s. “Is this when we smack our heads together?”  
  
Thorin stopped walking, which made Dís stop as well as they were still holding hands. Leaning forward Thorin bumped their foreheads together.  
  
“Love you, sister mine,” he whispered, and Dís sniffed and threw her arms around him.  
  
“You _arse_ , I’ve told you I was done with crying.”  
  
“Everything all right, dears?” Dori asked as she passed them.  
  
“Yes,” the siblings chorused, and Dís sniffed again and started to giggle. When Thorin just shook his head and wouldn’t join in Dís started to tickle him and soon they both ran past Dori, Thorin being chased by a madly cackling Dís.  
  
Dori took it all in a stride and only cautioned the two of them to watch where they put their feet.  
  
-  
  
“The one you’re in love with,” Thorin said quietly to Nori. “Is it-“  
  
“Whoa, hold up.” Nori raised her hand. “Who said _anything_ about something like _that_.”  
  
Thorin blinked. “But you agreed with my father when he said-“  
  
“He didn’t say anything about _love_ ,” Nori protested. “No need to use that word.”  
  
“So you’re not in love?”  
  
Nori squirmed. “I’m not talking about this. I _don’t_ talk about things like this.”  
  
The redhead hurried her steps and would have walked away if Thorin hadn’t grabbed her shoulder.  
  
“You’re lucky I like you,” Nori grumbled as she shrugged off his hand. “Or you’d be picking that hand up from the floor right now. You've two, you don't need two.”  
  
Thorin took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Is it Bilbo?”  
  
“Bilbo?” Nori blinked. “You think- me and _Bilbo_?”  
  
“Whatever did you say to her?” Dori asked when Nori had laughed for almost five minutes straight.  
  
She was laughing too hard to walk straight and if it’d not been for Thorin’s arm around her middle she’d probably collapsed into a giggling puddle of Dwarf long ago.  
  
Thorin had been tempted to let her, but he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t tell anyone what he’d asked. Just in case it was… misconstrued to mean something other than it meant. And what it meant was just friendly interest. Nothing more.  
  
Thorin’s cheeks felt uncomfortably hot but he tried to arrange his face into a neutral expression as he looked over at Dori.  
  
“Nothing to merit this reaction, I promise you.”  
  
“Oh- oh, I-“ Nori clutched at Thorin’s arm and gasped for breath. “Beg to differ. Me and-“  
  
“ _Don’t_ -“ Thorin warned, glancing over to the front of their little group where Bilbo and Ori were walking, completely wrapped up in whatever they were discussing. Probably books. They always seemed to talk about books whenever Thorin was around to hear them. Good for them. Thorin liked books too. Some of them at least.  
  
“Make me,” Nori purred, grin stretching almost from ear to ear.  
  
“If it’s not-“ Thorin glanced at Bilbo again. “Then I’m pretty sure I do know who it is. Still your tongue and I still mine. Otherwise, who knows who’ll hear certain words that shan’t be mentioned.”  
  
“You’re bluffing,” Nori said, her eyes narrowing into green slits. “You don’t know.”  
  
“I’m not just a ‘pretty face’, remember?” Thorin replied. Walking and walking and walking certainly gave you plenty of time to think. And if his father had been able to figure out that Nori was in love with someone, and it wasn’t Bilbo. Then it could really only be one other person. There was literally no other options.  
  
“Let’s hear it then,” Nori demanded, folding her arms over her chest. “Dori, go away, this isn’t something that concerns you.”  
  
“Hmff, you know I don’t agree,” Dori sniffed. “I know what you’re talking about, don’t think I don’t.”  
  
“Go away, sister, and pretend that you’re not looking back when Dwalin is pretending that he’s not looking at you.”  
  
“Nori!” Dori gasped, her eyes growing wide. “I raised you better than that.”  
  
“Apparently not.”  
  
Thorin didn’t say anything, but he was inclined to agree.  
  
“Well then,” Dori straightened her coat and looked at Thorin. “It’s _Glóin_. Who is much too good for her.”  
  
“You raised _yourself_ better than _that_!” Nori called after her sister as she strode away.  
  
“I knew it was him,” Thorin said with a small smirk.  
  
“You did not.”  
  
“I did too,” Thorin protested. “He and Bilbo was the only two people my father could have seen you interact with. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”  
  
“We passed a lot of people walking to Bilbo,” Nori said drily. “And a lot of people walking back. I greeted quite a few of them. Don’t think you’re so smart, pretty boy.”  
  
“But I was right,” Thorin pointed out.  
  
“Says you.”  
  
“And Dori.”  
  
“She’s not the sharpest stone in the-“  
  
“I see you’ve solved the problem about _us_ bashing heads together by finding someone new to bash yours against,” Dís said drily as she came up to walk beside Thorin. She snorted and looked around Thorin to smile at the redhead. “Nori, my condolences.”  
  
“Thank you for your sympathy, m’lady,” Nori said with a long suffering look. “I-“  
  
“Nori is in love with Glóin,” Thorin said, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest and add ‘ _hah_!’.  
  
“I already knew that,” Dís said with a shrug, both of them ignoring Nori’s protests. “I’m more interested why you’re looking at a certain someone as if he invented smithing even though it’s only the third time you’ve met.”  
  
Thorin opened his mouth to reply; though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was planning to say, but before his tongue could potentially make a fool out of him Dwalin called his name.  
  
“I best go see what he wants,” Thorin said, not in the least bit apologetically.  
  
“I know where you sleep,” Dís pointed out as Thorin made his escape.  
  
-  
  
“We didn’t finish our conversation about who you’d been looking at before,” Thorin whispered to Dís that night. Attack was the best defence after all.  
  
When no reply was forthcoming he nudged her shoulder. “I know you’re not asleep. You always snore when you sleep on your back.”  
  
“I hate you,” Dís murmured.  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“No I don’t.” She rolled over to meet his eyes. “But you’re really annoying sometimes.”

Thorin hummed and refrained from commenting. “So, Víri?”  
  
“ _Víli_ ,” Dís corrected instantly and then smacked her hand over her face. “I mean, who? Don’t laugh,” she added. “If you get to do that I get to do it too. And don’t think I’ve-”  
  
“He’s one of Bluebeards crew,” Thorin interrupted, looking over Dís shoulder to where Bluebeard had made camp. “You really think-“  
  
“I’m just… looking,” Dís protested. “And he seems nice.”  
  
“Just, be-“  
  
“If you tell me to be careful, I’m going to tell you to be careful too,” Dís murmured. “And I’m not the one making eyes at a Grey Warden.”  
  
“If Víri-“  
  
“ _Víli!_ ” Dís hissed.  
  
“If he was a Grey Warden then at least I’d know he could be trusted.”  
  
“Trusted? To do what? Fight Darkspawn?”  
  
“The Grey Wardens are very honourable,” Thorin defended. “They share our people’s struggles against the Darkspawn. If you join the Grey Wardens there’s not even a loss of caste even though you need to leave for the surface.”  
  
“They’ll also accept _anyone_ into their order,” Dís huffed. “Be it a paragon or murderer.”  
  
Thorin’s eyes narrowed and Dís huffed again and reached out a hand to poke him in the nose.  
  
“Oh, calm down. I wasn’t insinuating anything about he who shall not be named lest you immediately take it back. Just pointing out how you might be a tad biased. You’ve always been a bit starry-eyed about the Wardens, remember that Bilbo – oh, I’m sorry, he who shall not be named lest you take it back, actually _left_ the order.”  
  
Oh. Thorin felt himself deflate. That was true. Bilbo had said that, hadn’t he.  
  
“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“Quite,” Dís agreed. “And if you want to lie awake and think about those, you’re welcome to. But I would like to sleep now.”  
  
With a huff she rolled away so that her back was facing Thorin.  
  
“Still love you though, you twit,” she murmured.  
  
“Love you too, sister.”  
  
-  
  
“Could I ask you something?” Thorin sat down next to Bilbo and offered him some of the dried meat he’d collected from their supplies. He wasn’t really hungry, but he’d noticed how Bilbo always seemed to be. Nori had noticed him noticing (there wasn’t much she didn’t notice to be honest) and had explained that Grey Wardens were always hungry for some reason.  
  
“Oh, is this a bribe then?” Bilbo asked, smiling at Thorin. He did help himself to some of the meat and Thorin was not at all distracted by the flash of pink tongue that he saw as Bilbo put it into his mouth.  
  
“No, I just, you-“ All the things that he _couldn’t_ say decided to loop through Thorin’s mind. ‘You’re too thin.’ ‘You seem to _like_ eating.’ ‘I want to give you things.’  
  
“It’s only polite to share?” he managed.  
  
“I see Dori is already a good influence on you.”  
  
Thorin snorted. “She does remind me a bit of my mother. And if she does manage to make Dís into a proper lady then mother will definitely tell our ancestors to bless Dori, but I find myself doubtful. And that’s just as well. Dís wouldn’t be Dís if she wasn’t the way she is now. Bilbo?” Thorin added when he noticed the distracted look in the man’s eyes.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, just, lost in thought for a moment. My apologies.” Bilbo shook his head and gave Thorin a small smile. “I’m sure Nori will be a good enough antidote to anything Dori tries. But what did you want to ask? Surely not how to, or not how to, teach your sister to be what Dori would call a proper lady?”  
  
“You’re a Grey Warden?” Immediately after speaking Thorin winced. He’d not meant to be so blunt. Nor to ask the question like that, like he thought Bilbo had been lying after all. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t doubt that you are. I only wanted-“  
  
“You’re curious.” Bilbo sighed and Thorin offered him the dried meat again, wanting to do something to chase the gloomy look away. He felt a little better after Bilbo had taken a piece.  
  
“We don’t need to talk about it,” Thorin said, looking down at his hands and then taking a bite of the meat he was holding.  
  
“No, it’s quite all right. I understand why you’re curious.” Bilbo’s smile was a bit wry. “I most definitely was too, and I didn’t grow up with tales of them like you undoubtedly did. I am afraid you won’t be getting the same kinds of stories from me.”  
  
“I assume you left for a good reason,” Thorin said carefully.  
  
“Several,” Bilbo said with a small smile. “Not only because they made me late for dinner as Nori claimed. I had never meant to join in the first place. I- it’s a long story, but a friend wanted to join, and I followed him. Ran away from home. It was to be our great adventure.”  
  
No one except the Grey Wardens knew exactly what happened during a Joining, but everyone knew that it was dangerous. That some didn’t make it.  
  
“Did he die?” Thorin ask, fighting not to reach out and touch Bilbo.  
  
The blond nodded. “He did. They didn’t even want to allow him to join at first. Neither of us. We were both young, and I’ve not exactly gotten shorter over the years, so they thought me a child. My magic convinced them otherwise. And Erestor, my friend, they only agreed to let him go through because I asked that he would be allowed. We did everything together.”

“You grew up together?” Thorin guessed, wanting to change the subject to something a little less painful.  
  
“No, we met only a few years before our… adventure.” A more genuine smile touched Bilbo’s lips. “I was out in the forest and he shot me.”  
  
“He shot you?” Thorin blinked. “Why?”  
  
“He didn’t see me.”  
  
“You are not that small. I mean-“ Thorin felt like smacking his head into the nearest rock, but the urge lessened somewhat when Bilbo laughed. The urge to gape like a fool presented itself when Bilbo suddenly disappeared, as if he’d never been there in the first place.  
  
“This is how he didn’t see me,” Bilbo’s voice said from where he’d just been sitting.  
  
“You can make yourself invisible?” This time Thorin couldn’t help himself, he reached out and when his fingers touched the cloth of Bilbo’s shirt he recoiled slightly in surprise. “Amazing.”  
  
“But not very practical when you happen to stand between a hunter and the path his arrow will take to a deer.”

Thorin’s eyes grew wide when Bilbo suddenly became visible again, and then wider still when he hooked two fingers in the collar of his shirt and pulled it to the side to reveal a white scar marring the smooth, golden-pale skin of one shoulder.  
  
“I was lucky,” Bilbo said with a small shrug, letting his shirt fall closed once more and Thorin resolutely dragged his eyes back to Bilbo’s face. “And I guess the same thing could be said about my time with the Wardens.”  
  
In the dim light of the Deep Road’s Bilbo’s eyes looked dark and troubled. “You won’t hear any songs of praise to Grey Wardens from me. They have an important duty, and as far as I’m concerned they’re doing everything they can to make a complete mess out of it.”  
  
“Because the Wardens in Ferelden were killed?”  
  
“Yes, but it doesn’t end there.” Bilbo shook his head. “I have promised not to talk about what I know of the secrets of the order, it was the condition for being allowed to leave. But take something like the Right of Conscription. Everyone knows about that, there are laws in place to allow the Grey Wardens to freely recruit from all countries in Thedas, except in Seheron. The Quanari care little for the rules of others.”  
  
“Dwarves who join do not lose their caste,” Thorin agreed. “It’s considered an honour to devote one’s life to fighting Darkspawn. To be considered a warrior great enough for the Wardens. And if someone from a lower caste is picked it can even be beneficial for their family. Even though they almost always leave to go the surface, only to return for their Calling it is still considered a great thing.”  
  
“Yes, the Calling,” Bilbo murmured. “But that’s- No, let’s go back to the Right of Conscription. Because there are laws to allow the Grey Warden to pick who they deem most _suitable_ to their order, there are also consequences if you would rather refuse. Which means that the choice can quite literally be join, or be executed. Isn’t that lovely.”  
  
Thorin had never really imagined anyone not wanting to join the Wardens. It wasn’t like they went around and dragged people out of their beds at night, telling them to join or else. To be asked, it was a great honour that no one would want to refuse.  
  
“But as you said, the Grey Wardens have an important role to fill.”  
  
“Yes, but what is it?”  
  
“To fight Darkspawn?”  
  
“You have fought Darkspawn without being a Warden. Dwarves have been doing so since the vile things first spawned. But no one is giving you the right to go around and tell people how they should live the rest of their lives. Nor are you asking for it.” Bilbo shook his head.

“We’re told that the Grey Wardens are _essential_ to stop a blight. But we’re not told how or why. We are letting people be killed over-“ He took a deep breath. “Never mind, but I don’t approve.”  
  
“You joined of your own free will.”  
  
“Because I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. They keep secrets for the sake of keeping secrets which means that no one can make an informed choice, until it is too late. Becoming a Warden isn’t an adventure, it’s a death sentence.”  
  
There was nothing Thorin could really say to that. He never heard of any Grey Wardens living to an old age. Most who came to Erebor to go into the Deep Roads, to answer the Calling were only just beginning to go grey. But still they came, asking to be let inside to fight Darkspawn. They didn’t state their reason for not coming sooner, or later, but everyone knew that sooner or later, all Wardens would go into the Deep Roads to earn a worthy death; killing as many Darkspawn as they could in the process. What prompted the decision Thorin didn’t know, but-  
  
“Is, is that why you’ve been going into the Deep Roads?” Thorin asked, feeling his blood freeze inside of his veins. “Your Calling?”  
  
“Oh, no, no.” Bilbo looked startled. “I’m- no. No that’s not why. No.” The surprise turned into frustration. “I can’t explain why, but trust me, that’s not something you need to worry about when it comes to me. I’m not going to run away to chase after Darkspawn and leave you all-“  
  
“That’s not, that wasn’t why I was concerned.”  
  
“Oh.” Bilbo blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s, um, kind of you to be concerned.”  
  
Thorin wasn’t feeling particularly kind, but if that’s how Bilbo wanted to view it, fine.  
  
“Just, there is one thing I would like you to think about.” A slight flush rose on Bilbo’s cheeks. “Concerning the Grey Wardens I mean. It’s been close to five hundred years since the last Blight. What do you think they’ve been doing all this time, and why have they not told anyone about it? If they were only fighting Darkspawn, don’t you think you would have had them as constant guests as they would need access to the Deep Roads? Just, think about it.”

  
“I will,” Thorin promised, knowing that he would also be thinking about that blush.

-

“We’re getting close to something,” Dís whispered into Thorin’s ear. “I can feel it in the stone. It’s- I can’t even describe it. But it’s definitely something. Something big. Something… something _made_.”  
  
“It might be the lost thaig then,” Thorin murmured back. “Nori said that we ought to be getting close now.”

Glóin’s map had not been hard to follow. And what difficulty they would have had Dís had managed to help them through without giving away to anyone but Thorin and Nori that she had done just that.  
  
A tunnel that they would have needed to go through had collapsed, but instead of being forced to wander blindly in an attempt to not hard to follow, Dís and Nori had seemed to have a conversation all done with glances and nods, and Nori had quickly and surely managed to lead them onto the right path once more, claiming that she had remembered how Glóin had told her about the same collapse before they left. No one had found anything strange in how she and Dís had been walking close together at the front. The two of them were often to be found together after all. And there was nothing strange about Dís occasionally reaching out to touch her hand to the walls. She’d been doing that ever since they first entered the Deep Roads.  
  
“There is something strange about it,” Dís said quietly. “It doesn’t feel like before. It’s- I wish you could feel it like I do. Perhaps-“ Dís glanced around them. “Oh, there’s a pebble in my boot _again_!”  
  
“What?” Thorin said eloquently.  
  
“Stop, let me-“ Dís flailed her hand and grabbed Thorin’s shoulder. “Stand still, help me not fall over.”  
  
Drawing her leg up she made quite a show of pulling off her boot and almost falling, but managing to catch her balance by grabbing at Thorin, and then the boot was turned upside down and determinedly shaken until not even the tiniest of pebbles could still be in it. And by that point the rest of the company had all walked past them.

“Clever,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“Of course,” Dís said with a grin, a grin that quickly melted into a somewhat complicated expression when Víli glanced back and she tried to look like she was nobly suffering a pebble in her boot, but not quite at the level of suffering that someone needed to come and help her, even if it would of course have been lovely just to have the company, but no, she was actually doing fine, and they would catch right up to the rest of them as quick as a greased nug.

Considering the goofy way Víli smiled back at her, she’d not really needed to strain her acting abilities, Thorin noted. He hardly looked like someone prepared to point at her and reveal the pebble as a clever ruse to… well, to do something magical, or so Thorin supposed.  
  
“Right, we’ll should be quick about this,” Dís said as she pulled on her boot again. “We’ll need to walk closer to the wall. And then take my hand when I tell you to.”  
  
When Thorin looked doubtful Dís sighed and shook her head. “It’s nothing dangerous. I don’t even know if it’s going to work.”  
  
“Then how do you know that it’s not dangerous,” Thorin murmured, but regardless let Dís nudge him closer to the side of the passage.  
  
“Okay, switch, I need to be able to touch the wall. Anyone looking at us now?”  
  
“No,” Thorin replied. “Not that I can see, but-“  
  
“Great, take my hand then.”  
  
“Dís…”  
  
“I shouldn’t matter if anyone is looking or not, it’s just, I’m trying to be safe.” Blue eyes met blue. “It’s- I really want to share this with you, brother. If I can. It’s quite amazing.” She wriggled her fingers. “Come on.”

“I’d like to point out that your ideas have gotten us into trouble more often than mine,” Thorin said as he took her hand.  
  
“Considering that it’s by your doing we’re down in the Deep Roads, I’d say that’s invalid. Ready?”  
  
She didn’t give him any chance to reply before her eyes flashed blue for the briefest of moments and Thorin had only begun to think the thought of if someone could have noticed that when he felt _it_.

It was… it was a little like having a map in his head. He knew how the passages just ahead of them would stretch, he could feel that even though he’d thought they’d stop going downwards the path had the slightest of inclines that meant they actually had kept descending even after the ground had appeared to straighten up. But it was so much more. The stone felt… not alive, but, aware? Thorin couldn’t really sort out how something like that could be possible since anything aware surely had to be alive, but that’s how it felt like. It didn’t really feel like it was their ancestors looking out at them either, but exactly what it did feel like Thorin had no words for. But the overwhelming sensation he got was that the Deep Roads were happy they were here. That they had been… lonely.  
  
“Could you do this in Erebor?” Thorin murmured, wondering what their true home would feel like when these passages seemed so welcoming and familiar.  
  
“Maybe, but I never tried.” Dís shrugged. “I only realised the bit with the inscriptions after we arrived to Kirkwall. It’s lovely isn’t it? But can you feel what I meant? The difference?”  
  
Thorin shook his head and squeezed Dís’ hand. “I don’t think I can. It’s some distance ahead, yes? I don’t- I feel what is close, but nothing more.”  
  
Dís hummed thoughtfully and her eyes flashed again and the next Thorin knew was finding himself staring up at the ceiling of the tunnel.

“Oh I’m so sorry!”  
  
Thorin blinked as his sister’s face came into view.  
  
“I didn’t mean- Thorin, are you okay?”  
  
“What happened?” Thorin asked as Dís helped him to his feet.  
  
“I- you _fainted_! Hi Bilbo! Hi Dori! He’s all right, he just, fainted.”  
  
Thorin opened his mouth to protest because he had not _fainted_. He’d seen Dís’ eyes flash again and-  
Then he realised that Dís had greeted two of their companions and he turned his head to see Bilbo and Dori hurriedly coming towards them, both wearing concerned expressions. By the Stone…  
  
“I’m fine,” Thorin managed when Dori clucked and reach out to feel his forehead. “I promise.”  
  
He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disgruntled that Bilbo wasn’t really looking at him, _fainting_ , what an embarrassing excuse, instead the man was paying more attention to Dís for some reason and- _oh_. Could he- did he know?

“We’re going to need to have a talk you and me,” Bilbo murmured to Dís who failed completely at looking innocent, instead looking as guilty as if Bilbo had caught her trying to murder her brother.  
  
-  
  
“I thought I was just imagining things, but you actually have magic?”  
  
Bilbo had distracted Dori by pointing out how Ori was now walking alone with some of Bluebeard’s crew and when Dís had tried to excuse herself and join her, one look from Bilbo had been enough to get her to shut her mouth again and sigh. They were walking slowly towards the others, keeping their voices low enough not to carry.

“I-“ Dís’ gaze slid over to Thorin and Bilbo looked at him.  
  
“Do you have it as well?”  
  
Thorin really didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t just _tell_ Bilbo either. Not if Dís didn’t want to.

“It’s just me,” Dís said in a small voice.

“How?” Was all Bilbo asked and as one Dís and Thorin both shrugged, shoulder’s rubbing against the other.  
  
“I’ve always been like this,” Dís said quietly and Thorin reached out to tug her closer still, wrapping his arm around her.  
  
“You can’t tell anyone,” he said, looking at Bilbo. “Please.”  
  
“Of course I’m not- I-“ Bilbo licked his lips. “But _how_? This isn’t supposed to be possible. Dwarves have almost no connection to the Fade.”

“I don’t know how it works.” Dís bit her bottom lip. “How did you know about me? Did you see-“  
  
“No, no, I felt it,” Bilbo said distractedly eyes flitting back and forth between them. “A tug in the Fade. What were the two of you doing?”

“I was just showing Thorin something. I didn’t mean-“  
  
“You’ve not had _any_ actual training, have you?”  
  
“I-“

  
“Of course she hasn’t,” Thorin interrupted, not liking the timid look on Dís’ face. “Who are we supposed to have asked? The Chantry? I think not.”  
  
Bilbo shuddered. “No, definitely not. Under no circumstances can you tell them about this. You _can’t_.”  
  
“We weren’t going to.” Thorin crossed his arms. “We’re not fools.”  
  
“I’ve only ever told Nori,” Dís said, nervously wringing her hands together. “So she’d allow me to come here. And Dwalin knows. And of course our father. No one else knows.”

“And you trust Dwalin?” Bilbo asked and Dís nodded. “For your sake I hope you are correct in that. If the Chantry finds out. If the Knight-Commander does…” The little man shook his head. “I don’t mean to scare you, but if he find out that there is a Dwarf who can do magic, then you’ll not be safe anywhere in Kirkwall. If he ever find out, you’ll need to leave.”  
  
“He’d kill her?”  
  
The chuckle Bilbo let out was void of anything resembling happiness. “Eventually. But it’s what happens before then you really need to worry about. He hates magic. The Circle in Kirkwall, it’s not a good place.”  
  
“But, you don’t hide your magic?” Dís tilted her head. “I mean, it’s not the same thing, but why aren’t the Templars trying to get you if he hates magic so much? You are a Mage, and you’re not in the Circle.”

“Because he’s not a stupid man. And I don’t take any risks.”  
  
Thorin snorted. “Was that before you agreed to come on this expedition?”  
  
“No Templars down here,” Bilbo sniffed. “ And one of the reasons I stay in Kirkwall is because I want to help the Circle here. They’re not being treated in any way fairly. Templars follow the Knight-Commanders lead, and it keeps getting-" He broke off and shook his head. "This is not the place. You will train with me. Not here of course, but when we get back."  
  
“I’d like that,” Dís said with a bright smile. “Can you teach me how to turn into an animals?”  
  
“ _No_ ,” Thorin said. “No horses and definitely not any eagles.”  
  
“I want to try being a nug,” Dís protested.

“No nugs either. Don’t teach her that,” Thorin said to Bilbo before turning back to Dís. “What if you get stuck?”  
  
“I don’t actually know how to turn into any kind of animal,” Bilbo said apologetically to Dís. “A friend tried to teach me, but so far I’ve not had much luck. It’s possible that it’s not for me. All Mages have certain things they are good at, and other things that just can’t seem to work.”  
  
“I can’t heal,” Dís nodded. “At all. Not even a paper cut. But I’m really good at freezing things.”  
  
She held out her hand as if to show Bilbo but Thorin snagged it and tucked it against her side once again with a pointed glare and nod towards the rest of the company walking not that far ahead.  
  
“Oh, I actually forgot,” Dís said, her shoulders slumping. “It’s just, I’ve never met anyone with magic before. Or, I’ve met you. Obviously. But I’ve not talked about _my_ magic with anyone who has also had magic.”  
  
“We’ll find some more time to talk,” Bilbo promised. “After all, there is little else to do down here. And I am curious on what you were going to show Thorin. Perhaps you could show me as well?”  
  
“I’d love to!” Dís beamed. “I’ve got so many questions. So very many.”  
  
“That’s good,” Bilbo said warmly. “We should always question what we don’t know, even also what we think we do know. Only then we’ll eventually find out the truth.”  
  
Like the truth about Grey Wardens? Thorin’s brows knitted together in a small frown. If Grey Wardens weren’t the heroes of legend, what were they then? Or was it possible to be a hero, and at the same time, be something else entirely?  
  
Perhaps Bilbo could find some time to talk more with him as well. Thorin wouldn’t mind that, for a lot of reasons he wouldn’t mind that.

-  
  
“So the Mage and your sister are getting awfully cosy,” Dwalin murmured to Thorin.  
  
“He’s just, helping her,” Thorin said.  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
-  
  
“They really can’t find out about your sister,” Bilbo said quietly to Thorin.  
  
Noticing that Bilbo had walked at the back of the company for once Thorin had slowed his own pace until he too had fallen behind. He had hoped that Bilbo wouldn’t mind talking to him, but he had imagined that their conversation would be about something other than his sister.  
  
“The Templars can’t know and neither can the Chantry.”  
  
“Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?” Thorin turned his head to look at Bilbo.  
  
“It depends.”  
  
Bilbo did not explain it further and Thorin bit the inside of his cheek.    
  
“May I ask you a question again? It’s not about the Grey this time,” Thorin hastened to explain. “But it’s personal.”  
  
The little man looked a bit startled but he nodded. “Of course.”

"Do you believe in the Maker?"  
  
"Not the one the Chantry speaks of,” Bilbo snorted. To Thorin’s relief he did not seem to have taken offence.  
  
“The Chantry’s Maker seems callous and cold. Stupid even. They say that Demons are his first children. But he turned his back to them when he realised that they were flawed and that’s what made them turn malicious. He made them, and he dare find them wanting? That is someone the Chantry would have us cherish? No." They walked in silence for a few moments before Bilbo continued. “I believe in _a_ maker. But not in the Maker, no.”  
  
"Dwarves have no gods.”  
  
"Really?"  
  
"We are children of the Stone.” Thorin shrugged. “She is not a God, but part of us.”  
  
“And yet you chose to live away from it? On the surface?” Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was rude.”  
  
“It’s all right.” Thorin dared to reach out and touch his fingers to Bilbo’s arm. “And yes. But as Dwalin told me, the Stone is not fickle enough to forget us if I walk above her for a while. As we are part of her, we carry her with us.”  
  
“That’s lovely,” Bilbo said and smiled up at him. Thorin smiled back, and they continued in amiable silence.

-  
  
Then finally, after what seemed to Thorin like months of walking (but which was definitely not) they arrived at their destination. But what they found… was perhaps not quite what they had imagined.  
  
-

“This thaig does not make sense,” Ori complained, and Thorin’s lips quirked at the disgruntled expression on her face.

The youngest member on their expedition, being a few years younger than Dís, Ori should perhaps have reminded Thorin of Frerin. But aside from their tendency to spontaneously declare that something was amazing or stupid, there wasn’t really much to remind Thorin of his little brother. Even so, or possibly because of it, Thorin found that he quite liked the youngest of the three sisters.  
  
Ori had fire, and an endless curiosity and a way about her that meant that when she combined those two qualities and ended up asking roughly two hundred question about how living in Erebor had been like, Thorin didn’t mind. She wasn’t endlessly polite in the way Dori was, and definitely not carelessly unbothered with anything even remotely related to societal niceties like Nori was.               

“There are no statues of any paragons,” Ori said with a huff. “I don’t recognize the markings. And we’re actually _below_ the majority of the deep roads now. So this might be a lot older than the third blight. Which might explain why I can’t read any of this.”  
  
With a sigh she blew some of her hair out of her eyes to better glare at the offending script on the wall.

“Good news!” Bluebeard said with a broad smile. “If it's old that’ll make anything we find even more valuable.”  
  
“But it doesn’t make _sense_ ,” Ori grumped, deflating somewhat when Nori patted her on the back.  
  
“Then you’ll make it make sense,” she promised. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If this is as old as you think, it might not be safe.”  
  
Thorin glanced at Dís who was nonchalantly leaning against a wall, one palmed pressed just as nonchalantly to the stone and his sister gave him a small smile and a nod. Which probably meant that it was safe. Smiles shouldn’t mean imminent danger, right?

But someone who wasn’t smiling was Bilbo.

“Don’t split up,” he warned with a frown on his face. “Something… something isn’t quite right.”

“What?” Nori asked. “Darkspawn?”  
  
Blond curls danced when Bilbo shook his head. “No, I don’t sense any Darkspawn. I’ve not felt more than a distant flicker all the time we’ve been down here. But… there’s something.”  
  
“Thank you for that excellent advice,” Bluebeard huffed. “Brilliant really. _Something_.”

“Then run ahead,” Nori said sweetly. “But if you get eaten by that _something_ I’m getting your share of the treasure.”  
  
“Fucking hilarious you are.”  
  
“So what do you think it is?” Nori asked Bilbo, ignoring the dark look on Bluebeard’s face.  
  
“Magic,” Bilbo said shortly. “Powerful one at that. But it doesn’t feel like… I don’t think anyone is down here. Still, there’s… something. But I don’t- I can’t say what it is.”  
  
“Then I vote it’s a pile of gold,” Nori said cheerfully. “Gold is magic, it can turn into all sorts of amazing things. In fact I vote for several piles.”

The smile Bilbo sent her was wry but full of honest affection and Thorin stopped himself just in time before he started scowling.  
  
“Let me go first,” Bilbo said.  
  
“Fine by me.” Nori shrugged. “ _I_ don’t want to get eaten.”  
  
“No one is getting eaten,” Bilbo said with a long-suffering sigh and Dís giggled, lifting her hand to cover her mouth.  
  
“I’ll have you know I’m desperately trying to not make a terrible joke right now.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Thorin shook his head, tried not to wince, and reminded himself that he loved his sister.  
  
“I’m sorry, what?” Bilbo asked looking perplexed at Dís. Nori on the other hand grinned proudly.  
  
“I don’t know why your mind went there, Dís, but you’ve got my full support.”  
  
“I don’t get it,” Ori said with a small frown and Dori pulled her sister close and glared at both Dís and Nori.  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Are we going to stand around and natter all day?” Bluebeard asked impatiently, folding his arms across his chest, and behind him his crew moved restlessly, except for Víli who was biting his lip, cheeks stained red.  
  
“Nah, we can walk and natter,” Nori said, slinging her arm around Dís’ shoulders, ignoring how the difference in their heights made it rather awkward. “And if the last one to the treasure gets eaten I’m sure that’s a pretty good consolation price.”  
  
“I don’t want to know,” Bilbo said, but it was half-hearted at best. His attention seemed to be well and truly captured by something else. The blond’s gaze kept slipping to the left, towards the hallway that would lead them further into the thaig. “Just, let me go first.”  
  
“You said that already,” Nori pointed out. “However I’m not sure if you’ve noticed how you’re not actually walking anywhere. How you got by before meeting me I have no clue.”  
  
“I’m sure I don’t have either,” Bilbo said with a small smile. Thorin wasn’t jealous. At all.  
  
“This actually reminds me off when we met,” Nori mused as they started moving again, Bilbo taking point followed by Nori and Dís and the rest of them trailing after, Bluebeard and his crew at the back. “Only Darktown was a lot darker. And I’m pretty sure we don’t need to worry about chokedamp down here.”  
  
“I still don’t get it,” Ori said surly to herself as Dori towed her away from the script on the wall. If she talked about the script or Dís’ comment was anyone’s guess.  
  
“Chokedamp?” Dís asked.  
  
“Darktown hasn’t got even half the ventilation any random thaig has,” Nori replied, ruffling Dís’ hair before giving her shoulders a squeeze and then letting her arm drop. “It’s like a poisonous mist. Created from, well I’m not sure actually, but it’s nasty and it’ll make the air unbreathable, so if you’re being chased into it by some equally nasty people you’re lucky to find a Mage to help you out. And of course, if you save someone’s life you’re hence forth responsible for everything that person does, a thought I assume have kept Bilbo up many a night, and is the only reason he’s not told me to bugger off yet.”  
  
“I tried,” Bilbo said absently. “You kept coming back.”  
  
“Mage or not you looked like you could use some help in not getting yourself killed.” Nori snorted. “Honestly now, I think we all can agree you look about as dangerous as a nug.”  
  
“I like nugs,” Dís said, bumping her hip against Nori’s. “They’re adorable.”  
  
“Sure,” the redhead agreed. “And then they get eaten.” Both of them snickered. “Eaten,” Nori repeated with a wide grin. “Yeah, I’m keeping you. You’re much more fun than your brother and I guess I like him well enough. And you’re both pretty to look at.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thorin said drily. “And you, not a word,” he added to Dwalin when the larger Dwarf opened his mouth.

“Don’t get your beard in a knot,” Dwalin snorted. “Pretty boy.”  
  
In front of them Nori’s head bobbed approvingly.  
  
“We’re all a disgustingly attractive bunch really. Except for Bluebeard and his minions of course. But we’ll just have to pass over that little detail when we tell the tale of our wonderful adventure.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Dís said with a terribly unsubtle glance backwards. “I’d not say that they’re all hopeless.”

“So is liking blonds somewhat of a family thing yes?”  
  
Thorin opened his mouth, realised that saying anything wouldn’t do a whit to deter Nori, and also, it seemed that Bilbo wasn’t even paying attention. Of course Thorin only saw the little man’s back, but surely there would have been a reaction of some sort if he’d heard and understood what Nori meant.

“Your face will stick like that,” Dwalin murmured and Thorin’s glower deepened.  
  
“Is that what happened to you?” he shot back and tried to ignore the smug smile Dwalin turned his way instead of replying.  
  
-

“It’s a dead end,” Dís murmured as Bilbo led them all into a room large enough that Thorin couldn’t see the back of it. “But if we’d kept going there’s a whole ‘nother system of tunnels, some leading even further down. This place is _huge_.”  
  
“And empty,” Thorin replied. “It doesn’t feel like anyone ever lived here.”  
  
“It’s definitely not the living quarters,” Dís agreed. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I don’t feel whatever it is that Bilbo feels, but there’s… something.”  
  
One corner of Thorin’s mouth quirked. “Wasn’t that exactly what he said?”  
  
“Arse.” His sister gave him and exasperated look. “It’s… like someone is humming. Only it’s too low to hear, but it’s still loud enough that you feel it in your bones. I don’t know why Bilbo looked so vary though. It’s rather nice.”  
  
“Perhaps he doesn’t like the tune,” Thorin suggested.  
  
“Stay here,” Bilbo said almost absently as they reached the foot of a wide flight of stairs leading up to a raised platform in what Thorin judged to be the middle of the room.  
  
“Think it’s a trap?” Nori asked, snagging the back of Bilbo’s coat.  
  
“Well, no, but-“  
  
“Then screw staying,” she told him. “You’re not getting to have all the fun.” And just like that she was halfway up the staircase.

“Nori!” Bilbo protested climbing up after her.  
  
Thorin and Dís exchanged a look and then they followed.  
  
“Hello pretty,” Nori purred as she climbed the last steps and laid eyes on what rested on a marble podium on the platform. Thorin’s eyes widened as he too saw what had prompted Nori’s delight. It was a gemstone, almost the size of his fist and even in the low light of the Deep Roads it sparkled brighter than a diamond in the sun. But unlike a diamond it seemed like all the colours you could ever imagine were trapped inside of its facets. It was the most beautiful thing Thorin had ever seen.

“No, don’t-“ Bilbo warned.  
  
Nori picked the stone up and moved it up and down, trying to get a feeling for how much it weighed.  
  
“-touch it,” Bilbo finished. “Nori, put it down. Whatever magic that is, it’s not the good kind.”  
  
“It’s magic? But it’s fine,” Nori said with a small shrug. “Dwarf, remember? Magic is going to have to be pretty damned bad before it affects us. And are you sure it’s bad? Why put something bad on a pedestal in the middle of a room? Seems rather silly.”  
  
“When the people who lived here left, why didn’t they take it with them?” Bilbo argued, holding out his hand. “And did you see how thick the door was when we walked in? And the lock? Just the kind of lock I’d use if I wanted to lock away something dangerous.”  
  
“Pfft, they obviously knew I was coming and wanted to leave me a present.” Nori looked down at the stone with an enamoured expression on her face. “And the door wasn’t locked, let’s not forget that. But even if it had been, some of us tend to lock away valuables. Only sensible.”

Huffing a little from the climb Bluebeard joined them up on the dais and Nori shot him a quick grin. “Look at this. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s huge.”

“And here I thought I wouldn’t hear you say that while I was still wearing my trou,” Bluebeard said, eyes flickering up to meet Nori’s before returning to the stone, the glittering light reflecting in his dark eyes. “Now that’s what I call _something_ …”  
  
“If you’d please listen to me-” Bilbo huffed.  
  
“It’s a small fortune, that’s what it is,” Nori grinned. “And imagine if there’re more.”

“There won’t be,” Bilbo snapped. “Now give it to me.”  
  
Bluebeard pulled himself up to his full height, and glared down his nose at the Mage. “Stop being silly. It’s just a stone.”  
  
“Shhh,” Nori protested and patted it. “You’ll hurt it’s feelings. Hey!” she protested when Bilbo reached out to grab it, but the Mage had no sooner touched it before there was a flash of light and then he and Nori both went tumbling down the stairs.  
  
“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed and Dís’ eyes flashed with light for the briefest of moments. Before any of them had the chance to do anything but stare helplessly both Nori and Bilbo had tumbled all the way down and came to a stop at the feet of the stairs where most of the others were gathered.

Dori and Nori immediately rushed to their sister’s side and Víli and Dwalin went to Bilbo’s, Dwalin carefully rolling him over to lie on his back.  
  
“His hit his head,” he declared upon seeing the bright bloom of red at at one temple and Thorin – who had been taking the steps two at the time quickened his pace.

“Nori?” Dori sank down on her knees, entirely unconcerned with her dress. “Don’t- this is not the time to be lazy, young lady.”

“Not a lady,” Nori protested weakly and raised both her hands to her head. “I feel like someone dropped a boulder on me. By all Ancestors, _what_ was that?”  
  
“Come on, sit up,” Dori prompted and she and Ori both supported Nori as she straightened up, and then stopped her from getting to her feet when she tried to stand up.  
  
“Don’t be stubborn,” Ori huffed and Nori snorted.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Stone knows you set a good example. Bilbo?”  
  
“Out like a light,” Víli reported, moving aside when Thorin levelled a glare at him. Crouching beside the unconscious Bilbo Thorin hissed when he saw the blood spreading into blond curls.  
  
“Fuck,” Nori said eloquently, struggling to get to her feet and slapping at Dori’s hands when her sister pushed her back down. “Stop that. I’m fine, I’ve got a heard head, it’ll survive having a boulder dropped on it. Let me up.”  
  
“Bilbo?” Thorin said and tried to keep calm. Bilbo’s breathing was still steady and deep, and head wounds always bled a lot. Everyone knew that.

“Okay, room is spinning,” Nori remarked as she finally got back up. “It’s fine,” she told Dori when she clucked anxiously. “Just like when Beorn brings out the good stuff. Help me over to Bilbo so I won’t end up falling all over him. If he wakes up to find me sprawled in his lap he’s going to think I’m molesting him and then he’ll turn me into a frog.”  
  
“But he couldn't even turn himself into anything?” Dís asked.  
  
“Oh he’ll learn how just to teach me a lesson,” Nori assured her. “Come on, wake up,” she prompted when Dori and Ori finally got her up from the ground. “Really, this is quite embarrassing, I know your head is harder than this. Not to mention all those curls have to have broken the fall somewhat.”

Dís put her hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “There’s a room with a spring not long from here. I’ll-“  
  
The two siblings turned their heads as they heard a dull thump, as did everyone else. Only… everyone else was a considerably smaller group than just a minute back.  
  
“The door,” Dís breathed. “Someone closed the door to this chamber."

“Where is the stone?” Nori asked suddenly. “Bluebeard?! Bloody fuck- help me to the door,” she snapped at Dori.  
  
“Now would be a really good time for you to wake up,” Ori told Bilbo. “I mean it.”  
  
“Bluebeard you miserable excuse for a dunderheaded shroom,” Nori yelled at the door. “What do you think you’re doing?”  
  
“The door just… closed,” came Bluebeard’s voice through the door, sneaking its way through unseen cracks and flaws in the stone and metal.  
  
“It did _not_ ,” Nori protested. “Or are you going to claim that a sudden wind swept through and nudged it shut? And where did the stone go? I dropped it when I fell, but now it doesn’t seem to be in here. Are you really going to do something like this because of one damned stone?”  
  
“But what a stone it is. And don’t play dumb,” Bluebeard scoffed. “You’re not always the brightest gem in the setting but you’re not that thick. It’s not just the stone. The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune now that I know it really exists. Not to mention how we might find all sorts of interesting things still down here. Without my coin we wouldn’t be standing here, so why should I let you get your greedy little hands on my profit. We didn’t even need your Grey Warden now did we. Still, sad how accidents happen. Who know this door would close and not be possible to open again? A cautionary tale I’m sure. But we’ll hurry back down here with the right tools to get you out. Might take a while though, quite a long trek as you know.”

“We don’t have any water you bastard, you can’t leave us here for _weeks_ , we’ll die!”  
  
“So sad. I guess we’ll just need to comfort ourselves with the riches we find, eh, lads?”  
  
There was a low chuckle and Thorin clenched his fists.  
  
“Shame you were too busy fawning over a Mage to join us, Víli,” Bluebeard said and Dís flinched before she realised that he was talking about Bilbo.  
  
“I didn’t know,” Víli breathed, looking at Dís who looked back, stricken. “I swear, I didn’t know what they were planning.”

“Wonder if Glóin would join us on the rescue mission?” Nori’s head gaze snapped back to the door. “I bet he’ll feel guilty when I tell him what happened. Perhaps he would storm off right away to save his cousin and his friends. Perhaps he’d not come back either.”  
  
“You are not going to do _anything_ to Glóin,” Nori hissed darkly, hands pressed so hard against the closed door that the tips of her fingers turned white.  
  
“Of _course_ not,” Bluebeard said. “But _accidents_ do happen.”

“Blighted son of a stone forsaken nug’s arse,” Nori swore as she slapped her palms against the door. “Bluebeard!”  
  
There was no reply and Nori kicked at the door and would probably have ended up with at least a sprain if Dori hadn’t pulled her back. Swaying and cursing Nori swatted at her sister’s hands.  
  
“Calm down,” Dori said tightly, pinning Nori’s hands at her sides. “That’s not going to help now is it.”  
  
“I’ll calm down when one of my knives are sticking out of that nug-humping, dirt licking son of a- If you even think of putting your hand anywhere near my mouth I’ll bite you,” Nori warned when Dori released one of her hands.  
  
“Yes, getting angry always works out well for you,” Dori sniffed.  
  
“Yeah, it’s a family trait isn’t it,” Nori shot back.  
  
“Are we really going to die?” Ori asked in a small voice. The next moment both Nori and Dori had calmed down, or at least made a good show of pretending to have done so and they pulled Ori between them, into a comforting hug.  
  
“Course not, love,” Nori promised. “Have you ever known me not to make my way out of a messy situation? This will be-”

Hearing a soft sound from the unconscious Mage Thorin turned his attention back to Bilbo. “Wake up?” he asked, his skin crawling from the familiarity of someone he… cared for being hurt while he was unable to do anything about it.  
  
All of a sudden hazel eyes flew open, flashed white and the next Thorin knew he was landing on his arse several feet back.

“Bilbo!” Nori called, eyes wide. “Bilbo it’s me, it’s fine.” She started making her way over and almost fell before Dori managed to right her again. “Bilbo, time to take a deep breath.”  
  
Thorin was too confused to do anything except look in shock how Bilbo’s skin started to glow and how his breath came quick and shallow.  
  
“We’re not doing this here,” Nori said sternly. “I’m not getting thrown on my arse any more today thank you. So stop it.”  
  
“Nori?” Bilbo gasped.  
  
“Who else would boss you around?” Nori said, hobbling over, and during normal circumstances Thorin would be concerned as to why she didn’t seem to be able to walk straight, but as it were, he couldn’t take his eyes off Bilbo.  
  
“Well, except Dori, Beorn, all the children in Darktown…” Nori sank down on the ground and grabbed one of Bilbo’s hands in both of hers, flinching slightly when he pulsed white again but not letting go. “Great, okay. So deep breaths. And when you’re calm you should fix your head before you bleed all over your clothes, you know stains make you cranky. And also, I’m really dizzy so feel free to-“  
  
“You’re hurt?”  
  
Nori reached up to tap one finger against Bilbo’s head. “I’m not the one looking paler than usual. So deep breaths. We’re fine. I promise. Bluebeard won’t be when I can get my hands on him, but hey, who cares about him anyway.”  
  
Some of the tension drained out of Bilbo’s body and he relaxed down into the stone.  
  
“Good boy,” Nori praised.  
  
“I’m not a pet,” Bilbo grumbled.  
  
“But you’re so small and cute,” Nori protested, gently stroking her hand through blond curls, careful not to touch the still sluggishly bleeding wound. “Though you really should fix your head before it scars. Not sure if you can pull off scars.”  
  
“You first.”  
  
“Oh, no,” Nori protested. “You’ve got a head wound and you want to do magic on me, no, no. You fix yourself up first, I don’t want to end up as a plant.”  
  
“Plant?” Thorin asked, surprising both himself and Nori and Bilbo too, if the way they both snapped their head to him was anything to judge by. “Sorry,” he added when they both winced and clutched at their heads.  
  
“Bilbo likes plants,” Nori explained, lip curling up in distaste. “There is now a garden in _Dark_ town and is that not the silliest thing-“  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a garden,” Bilbo groused. “Green things are good for you.”  
  
“I think not,” Ori murmured.  
  
“See, if you should turn anyone into a plant it’s her,” Nori said, moving Bilbo’s hands up to cup his head. “Okay, _magic_.” She shook his hands slightly.  
  
“That’s not,” Bilbo began. “Oh never mind.” He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, and Thorin watched in fascination as light seemed to stream from Bilbo’s palms and into his head.

“There’s definitely something strange going on here,” Bilbo murmured as he sat up. “That was much easier than it should have been.”  
  
“You complain about stupid things,” Nori informed him and plucked at his sleeve. “Now fix me, I don’t like being dizzy. Then we can talk about strange somethings. And how I’m going to flay Bluebeard’s somethings. Shame they're not bigger than-”  
  
“What happened?” Bilbo asked, small hands already coming up to cup Nori’s face.  
  
“Bluebeard is even more of a bastard- oh that’s nice,” Nori purred when Bilbo’s hands glowed. “Really, do it more.”  
  
“Behave.” Bilbo’s cheeks were the slightest bit pink.  
  
“Yes, do,” Dori agreed.  
  
“That’s no fun.” Nori gracefully rose back up on her feet when Bilbo dropped his hands into his lap and she reached down to help him up as well. “Okay, so a short summary for those of us who were consciously challenged. Bluebeard is a nug-shit who shut us in here, a place that only seems to have one door, and he took the stone and disappeared cackling about treasure.”  
  
“He took the stone?”  
  
Nori shot him a disbelieving look. “That’s what you’re going to focus on?”  
  
“That stone is not safe,” Bilbo explained. “It’s… It almost felt as if it was made out of Lyrium. Only I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Lyrium isn’t that harmful for Dwarves though,” Dís pointed out. “Our father is a Lyrium merchant. And even though Bluebeard is a surface dwarf, unless he tries to eat it-”

“Thráin is a Lyrium merchant?” Bilbo frowned. “Interesting. But yes, it can’t really be Lyrium. It was clearly a gemstone. And I don’t even feel any Lyrium veins around here. But-“  
  
“As fascinating as this is,” Dwalin drawled. “Do you think we might work on getting out of here? It’s going to be a long trip back up to the surface, and we don’t have any supplies, so perhaps we shouldn’t dawdle?”  
  
“Good point,” Nori said. She looked expectantly at Bilbo. “So, magic us out of here?”  
  
The blond stared incredulously at her. “And how am I supposed to do that?”  
  
“Break down the door?”  
  
“I think-“ Dís began and Thorin, who had by now picked himself up from the floor, shot her a sharp look.  
  
“No.”  
  
“But I can help,” she protested. “I can. And we _really_ don’t want anyone to try and break down that door.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Almost everyone knows about me anyway.”  
  
“But not everyone,” Thorin said, throwing Víli a dark look, and the blond Dwarf took half-a step back but then stopped and squared his shoulders.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I swear to you that I didn’t know anything about what Bluebeard was planning. And I wouldn’t do anything to cause D- any of you, harm.”  
  
Dís bit her lip. “It’s my choice,” she told Thorin.

“For your sake I hope you are able to keep your mouth shut,” Thorin said darkly to Víli.  
  
“What are you all on about,” Dori asked, hands on her hips.  
  
“I’m… a Mage?” Dís said, wincing when it came out as a question. “As in, I can do magic.”  
  
“Dwarves can’t be mages,” Dori scoffed. “Everyone knows that.”  
  
“She can,” Bilbo said with an almost amused smile on his face. “I promise you, Dori, she’s a Mage.”  
  
In the resulting ruckus; almost exclusively produced by Dori, Thorin and Dwalin flocked together, not really wanting to get involved.  
  
“So,” Thorin said, brushing their shoulder’s together and nodding at Dori as she threw up her hands , almost hitting Ori in the process, and proclaimed that everyone knew that Dwarves couldn’t do magic. “Her?”  
  
“Him?” Dwalin said, inclining his head in Bilbo’s direction just as the Mage puffed himself up in indignity of not being believed.

The one who could have easily stopped the argument with a short demonstration of her magic was too busy talking to Víli to bother with Dori and Bilbo. Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a look.  
  
“We’re not as bad as them at least,” Dwalin sighed as Víli flushed red all the way down to his neck as Dís took his hand.  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
-  
  
Everything calmed down, at least somewhat, after Dís had stomped her foot and made it snow.  
  
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Thorin said, blinking as a snowflake landed on his nose.  
  
“I didn’t either,” Dís said, eyes wide beneath her dark fringe. "I was just trying to make it colder. So I could make a few chips of ice."  
  
“Not that anyone is listening to me,” Bilbo sighed. “But I have been trying to tell you that there is something strange going on here. I’m not sure if it’s the room or if the stone had an effect on the room, and I don’t understand either of it, but regardless, the Fade is not behaving as it usually does.”  
  
“So why shouldn’t we break down the door again?” Thorin asked his sister.  
  
“Because that might bring the ceiling down at the same time,” Dís explained. “There’s, a trap? I can feel this mechanism in the wall, and it’s not just to keep the door shut.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think this door is supposed to be opened from the inside.”

“Wonderful,” Nori sighed. “Okay, no plan, do not break the door down. Anyone else feel like making a suggestion?”  
  
“There’s a fault line in the back wall?” Dís waved her arm towards the back of the room. “And there’s a room behind it. I might… be able to do something.”  
  
“This is the best thing I’ve heard all day and I officially like you more than your brother now,” Nori declared.  
  
“Be very careful,” Bilbo warned. “There’s-“  
  
“ _Something_.” Nori flapped her hand. “Sorry, but I’m getting really sick of that word. I just want to get out of here, go back up, preferably stumble on Bluebeard’s corpse on the way-“  
  
“Nori!” Dori protested and covered Ori’s ears. Ori just sighed long-sufferingly.

“And if no corpse is forthcoming and he’s harmed as much as a hair in Glóin’s beard then I’m going to hang Bluebeard by his rocks in the docks and let the gulls eat him. And only _then_ I’m going to kill him.”

The group of eight moved around the dais and towards the back wall and Dís told everyone to step back as she pressed both her palms to the wall.

No one stepped back.  
  
“I’m not kidding,” she said. “And I don’t know what I’m doing either. Really. If anyone has any other ideas, feel free to jump in now.”  
  
Thorin’s eyes slipped to Bilbo whose jaw was tightly clenched.  
  
“Use only half the power you would normally use,” he told Dís and the Dwarf shrugged helplessly.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that as soon as I know how much that is.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, here we go.”  
  
She pressed her palms flat against the wall, which to Thorin’s eyes looked much like the other four walls of the room, and for a long couples of moments nothing happened. Then there was a rumbling sound, and then the ground shook slightly beneath their feet and dust fell down from the ceiling.  
  
Thorin reflexively took a step closer to Dís, preparing to snatch her away if it looked like the ceiling would cave in. He wasn’t sure that anything he could do would be very effective to help them, because there was nowhere for them to go, but he couldn’t just stand still and do nothing.  
  
Again the ground shook and Dís’ hands began to glow with a steady blue-white light. She removed one from the wall and then struck it sharply with the heel of her hand.  
  
With a sullen groan the wall crumbled, leaving an opening into a dark, dank smelling chamber.

“That was so strange,” Dís said, her hands shaking slightly. “It was like the stone didn’t want to help me. Or not the stone, but something in the stone.”  
  
“Our presence is not appreciated here,” Bilbo said slowly.  
  
“Oh damn,” Nori said and they all turned to look at her. “No, don’t mind me. It’s just, Bilbo, you say that, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you might be planning on going back?”  
  
“I might,” Bilbo hedged. “There’s som-“  
  
“Okay that word is now officially banned.” Nori pulled at one of her braids. “Can you make some sort of light, or just, do some other magic so you glow? That’d be handy since all our packs are on the wrong side of the door of doom.”  
  
“At your service,” Bilbo said drily and cupped his hand, and a moment later three small balls of light rose up into the air and danced around Nori’s head.  
  
“Thank you,” she said with as much dignity as you could summon while a magical ball of light appeared to be enamoured with one of your braids. “Shall we?”  
  
Without waiting for answer, she stepped in front of Dís and disappeared into the dark chamber, closely followed by Bilbo.  
  
“Nori, Bilbo, you will wait for the rest of us,” Dori scolded and pushed past Thorin. “Ori, please take my hand.”  
  
“I’m not about to get lost,” Ori protested. “Or run off. I-”  
  
“Guys! Come quickly!” Nori called, and the rest of Ori’s protest was drowned in worried questions and the rapid sound of feet on the stone floor.  
  
Nori and Bilbo had not gotten far, and it was easy enough to see them with the lights that had now appeared to nest in Nori’s hair. They were both standing in the doorway leading into another chamber, and they didn’t look fearful or upset. No, they looked … stunned?  
  
“I know we’re in a hurry, believe me I know,” Nori said, her voice hushed. “But you’ve got to see this.”

She stepped aside, Bilbo doing the same and Thorin and the rest crowded as well as they could into the door way, looking over each other’s heads, around shoulder’s and beneath arms. One of the balls of light came slowly floating over them to hang itself in the doorway.  
  
“Wow,” Ori breathed. “Wow, that’s. Wow.”  
  
“I can’t believe it,” Víli said softly.  
  
Neither could Thorin. The chamber they were all staring into was not particularly large, no larger than Glóin’s office back in Kirkwall. But unlike Glóin’s office it was not filled with bookcases and paper, instead there were chests overflowing with gold and precious gems, silver piled carelessly on the ground, and in the corner closest to the doorway Thorin spotted what he first mistook for the same kind of stone they had found earlier. It glittered beautifully in the light and without thinking the Dwarf entered the room and went to pick it up.  
  
“It’s just a diamond,” he informed the others after taking a moment to look at it. "I thought it was-"  
  
“Just a diamond he says,” Víli muttered. “That thing is the size of your fist. You could buy the whole of Kirkwall with it. Whatever you’d want with some particular parts of it.”  
  
“Perhaps if we split it into smaller pieces,” Nori mused, ducking in beneath Dwalin’s arm to also step into the room. At her comment Víli made an affronted, verging on horrified noise and the redhead smiled. “Face it, what single person is going to have enough coin to pay for it, not to mention that I don’t even know what anyone would expect to do with a stone that size. Be a mite inconvenient to carry around your neck, never mind in one ear.”  
  
“But it’s perfect,” Víli protested. “You can’t destroy it. Look at it. Look at the mastery that’s gone into making it. To destroy it would be a crime”  
  
“You a jeweller?” Nori asked.  
  
“My father was,” Víli said shortly. “I do not have a trade.”  
  
“No need to cry about that,” Nori shrugged. “Now we’ve got a reason to go back as well, and make sure Bilbo doesn’t have all the fun down here. And since Bluebeard is such a bastard, I hereby declare that any contacts previously entered are void, and this treasure will be split equally between everyone here, with one share for Glóin of course.”  
  
Víli’s jaw dropped open, as did Dís’. Thorin just barely held on to his.  
  
“Brilliant,” Nori said and nodded. “That being settled, mind if we get out of here before Bluebeard manages to find his way back? I knew I should have kept the damned maps on me, perhaps that would have slowed him.”  
  
Before leaving the redhead snagged a handful of golden coins from the top of a pile and put in her pocket, telling everyone to do the same.  
  
“We’re rich now, people. Let’s be practical about it and not go surface side with empty pockets but neither dragging a chest along.”

Dís looked at Thorin who could only shrug helplessly. “Take something if you want,” he said, looking down at the diamond in his hand. “Catch,” he said and threw it at Víli who fumbled and almost dropped it. The blond’s eyes went wide and he froze.  
  
“Like Nori said, it’s just not practical,” Thorin replied to the stunned look he received. “But you seemed to like it. And it’ll probably fit in your pocket.”  
  
“You’re insane,” Víli breathed, then flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No it’s good that you figured it out,” Dís mumbled, then she flushed as well. “I-“

Snorting Thorin followed Nori’s example and grabbed a fist of gold, then followed Bilbo and the redhead as they walked out the door.  
  
“Dís!” Nori called. “Come and be our map!”  
  
“Coming!” Dís replied and without bothering to take anything she hurried after her brother.  
  
“Wait,” Ori protested, fingers pulling on Dís shirt and jogging to keep up with her. “You can be a map?”

Víli looked down at the diamond, up after Dís’s rapidly disappearing back, down at the diamond, and then put it down in favour of a necklace with sapphires which he stuffed into his pocket with an almost guilty look on his face.  
  
Dori and Dwalin snorted at the same time, and then cast each other furtive glances when they thought they were being unobserved.  
  
“After you,” Dwalin said gruffly when they both came to the doorway and Dori’s cheeks flushed becomingly. The ball of light that still hovered in the doorway seemed to slump in a sigh, and then it sped off after the others, making Dori and Dwalin speed up as to not get left in the dark.  
  
“I wonder who left all that treasure,” Dori murmured as they tried to catch up with the others. “And so carelessly at that.”  
  
“Perhaps they had found a greater treasure,” Dwalin suggested softly.  
  
“You mean the stone Nori-“  
  
Dwalin shook his head and reached out to touch his fingers to the back of Dori's hand. “Something even more valuable and beautiful.”

“Oh,” Dori breathed. The two of them wasn't aware of it, but they had come to a stop in the middle of the corridor. Her hands fluttering nervously at her sides Dori licked her lips. “I-“  
  
"Many things are worth more than-"  
  
“Don’t make me come back there and hold your hand,” Ori teased, her head popping out from behind a curve in the hallway. “Come on, before Nori leaves us all here.”

“You are _not_ helpful,” Dori hissed as she passed her sister. Dwalin was still standing still as a statue in the hallway, a hint of colour in his cheek.  
  
“I’m very helpful,” Ori protested, latching on to Dori’s arm. “You’ve always said I’m helpful even. And polite.”

“I take it _all_ back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Deep Roads](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Deep_Roads)
> 
>  
> 
> [Paragon](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Paragon)


	10. Act Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the part of the story that will most closely follow the Dragon Age canon.  
> From here it won't be an AU (so to speak) but it will definitely begin to spin a little further away from anything like canon.

_For I come without answers;_

_see: the dying are legion,_

_legion, the breakwaters breached by the red of the sun,_

_the headpieces knocking the ship’s side,_

_the hands closing over their kisses,_

_and legion the things I would give to oblivion._

_~Pablo Neruda – There is no forgetting_

 

 


	11. Present

“And what happened next?”  
  
Ori shrugged. “We got to be anxious and hungry for about a week, and then we got back home and-“  
  
“Wait.” The Seeker held up her hand. “So Oakenshield did not kill a dragon? And what about the hunger demon? The rock wraith? And there was no Darkspawn either?”  
  
Ori blinked and tilted her head to the side. “Don’t tell me you’ve been listening to the gossip? Half of that was made up by Nori to get people to buy her drinks. The Stone only knows what that was about since she had more than enough coin to buy her own. I mean, sure it-”

“So none of it is true?”  
  
“Depends on what you mean with ‘it’.” Ori rapped her finger down on the book in her lap. “Is this book about Thorin?”  
  
The Seeker nodded and Ori snorted. “It’s very impressive looking. And-“ she tapped a nail at the handle of the knife still sticking out of it. “I guess I’m lucky it’s as thick as it is. But if it’s full of stuff like Thorin fighting dragons then you’ve not done a very good job.”  
  
“But why would your sister make something like that up?”  
  
“I told you,” Ori huffed. “Free drinks. And to annoy Thorin. And also, telling everyone how you’re filthy rich tends to invite people to come and steal from you.”  
  
If anyone would know that, it would be Nori.  
  
“People knew that we’d been going into the Deep Roads, and we knew they certainly would notice when we started spending the fortune we found, but by painting a picture of our adventures, Nori moved the focus from the treasure.” Ori shrugged. “Instead of inquiring about piles of gold people were more fond of hearing those stories. Not that we kept piles of gold around, that would not have been very clever of us would it. Nori certainly paid enough people to keep an eye and an ear out for any not so nice talk about us, but to be honest, I think it was the stories that sealed the deal. And that we of course didn't tell anyone about diamonds large enough to buy a city with.” Ori frowned. "Not sure what happened with that one actually."  
  
“Why focus on Oakenshield then?”

Ori shrugged again. “Nori always said that people likes a hero. And Thorin denying whatever she said only made it that more impressive. They thought he was humble. Occasionally she’d sneak in the bits that were actually true, like how he escaped the Darkspawn in Erebor, and make him admit how it was indeed true. That made people think that the rest of it was as well. A clever lie is always partially true. Nori always liked making up stories…” Ori said with a small smile. “And she loves annoying people.”  
  
“You miss your sister.”  
  
Straightening up Ori crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course I do.  
  
The Seeker hummed but made no further comment on the subject.  
  
“So tell me what really happened, if there were no demons, dragons and Darkspawn.”  
  
“Nothing happened.” Ori let out an annoyed sighed. “Dís found us a way out and made ice for us to suck on as we didn't have any water. It took almost a week to get out, and we were all starving. Bilbo especially. Because of the Warden thing,” Ori added quickly. “Always hungry. Not sure why, but there you go. It would have been a miserable week anyway because we were all worried about what would happen when we got back to Kirkwall. What Bluebeard would have done.”  
  
“And what happened when you got here?”  
  
“Nothing you'd be interested in I'm sure.”  
  
Ori squirmed at the look she received. “Fine. We went home. Found no trace of Bluebeard or his crew. Nori kissed Glóin-“   
  
The shocked look in his eyes when they’d all piled into his shop and Nori had all but flung herself at him… That Ori would always remember fondly.

“The two of them spent the next three months arguing about if she was too young for him or not. Nori won.”  
  
Glóin had never been able to say no to Nori for long, especially not when she was actually right. They had been dancing around the possibility of there being a them for a long time, and Ori had been so happy for them when Nori finally said that she’d be moving in with Glóin. Of course this had been _before_ he had actually admitted that she wasn’t too young, but that was just how Nori handled most things. She never was one to follow anything resembling proper protocol. Dori on the other hand…

“Dori and Dwalin only took a month to sort themselves out. Would probably have been sooner but Dwalin managed to put his foot in it by saying that his brother would have very much approved of Dori.” Ori snickered softly at the memory. “He made it sound as if he was only courting her because his brother would have wanted it. Dori didn't much appreciate that sentiment. Still they managed to work it out, no blood spilled and then they started courting for real.

“Thorin and Bilbo…” Ori hesitated. “They were the slowest. Well unless you count how Glóin and Nori knew each other for years before anything happened.”  
  
The evening of the very day when Nori had introduced Bilbo and Thorin to each other she’d come home crowing about how she’d finally found someone for Bilbo. She’d smugly told them about how there had been long periods of staring. And she’d might actually have cackled when Thorin and Dís had joined the expedition, and then after a casually dropped comment about it from Nori, Bilbo agreed to join as well even though he’d been vehemently declining before.  
  
Ori had expected to see the beginnings of an epic romance down in the Deep Roads. Not two people continuing to awkwardly stare at each other in between having normal conversations and generally being very sweet to each other.  
  
“I’m not saying it's because they were the only two with a hammer each, but-“

“Hammer?”

“You know,” Ori pointed into her lap which didn’t really work as there was a book in the way. Not really knowing what to do she ended up making a fairly rude gesture instead. “Hammer.”

What could have been a cough or just an amused snort came from the Seeker and Ori sighed at the absurdity that was her life. This wasn’t a friend that she was talking to, not even close. It was her potential murderer. And the Stone only knew why exactly she wanted to track down Thorin for.  
  
“While we’re talking about things you think you know about Thorin, let me tell you that Nori made up the story wherein he got the name Oakenshield as well.”  
  
The Seeker raised an enquiring eyebrow. “She did, did she?”

Ori nodded. “For her stories. She said it was, erm, better than Thorin son of Thráin. More easily remembered. And since she never really explained where it came from, or rather, she explained over and over again with new stories, it allowed people to make up their own stories, depending on what they wanted to believe.” The redhead licker her lips. “Which one did you believe was true?”  
  
“Azog,” the woman said shortly, folding her arms across her chest with a soft clink from her armour.  
  
Now it was Ori’s turn to hum but she refrained from making any further comments.  
  
“Continue with your story,” the Seeker prompted.   
  
“I don’t know where to pick it up,” Ori said with a shrug. “There was a good six months where nothing happened beyond what I’ve told you. Only that’s not even close to being true depending on how you look at. The _Blight_ ended. The shortest Blight in history. That’s not nothing. And we were all rich. And that took some time to get used to. I’m fairly sure you’re not interested in knowing about all the new books I bought though.”  
  
“What happened when you went back down into the Deep Roads. Was there still something disturbing the Fade in the room that you had found?”

“No.” Ori shook her head. “I wasn’t with them, but Nori told me that both Bilbo and Dís agreed that whatever it was it was no longer there.”  
  
“And is that the truth or just you trying to stop me from going down there?”  
  
Ori snorted. “If you want to go, please. Just don’t bring me because by now I expect that the Darkspawn are back. Not to mention that I don’t have the maps, and it’s been so long I don’t think I remember the way. We lose our Stone Sense after too long above ground, and I’ve lived on the surface for almost all my life. But yes, it’s the truth. If there is something down there still, it’s nothing we found at the time. I think the stone was enough, don’t you?”  
  
Before the Seeker could comment on that, because Ori didn’t want to hear it, and she didn’t know what had possessed her to mention it she hurried to latch on to another topic.  
  
“If there’s anything you should remember Thorin for it’s for the same reason why the people in Lowtown and Darktown came to love him. He- when he’d decided that he was staying in Kirkwall, he spent so much of his time and coin to try and make it a better place, for everyone. Even for the people in the Alienage and Darktown.” Ori lifted her chin. “That’s what people should know him for. Remember him for.”  
  
“But certainly some of the stories I’ve heard are true.” The Seeker walked across the room and sat down in a chair, unmindful of the dust that billowed up from the cushion. Her face was now in shadow and Ori couldn’t read her facial expression at all. She didn’t like not knowing how her words affected her listeners. Especially not when her life, and Dori’s and her babe’s and Dwalin’s, could very well be in the balance.  
  
“Continue, what happened with the necromancer?”

“Other things happened first,” Ori protested. “We didn’t just come back up from the Deep Roads to… she bit her bottom lip. “That didn’t even start until after Thorin and Bilbo had become… intimate.”   
  
She was probably blushing now. Dammit. Keeping one’s dignity while having fair skin was a damned inconvenient endeavour. “Thorin blamed himself afterwards, for being busy. For not being there for his father. And Dís did the same as she spent a lot of her time with Víli. Of course it wasn’t either of their faults but-“

“I thought he would have blamed magic?”

Ori shook her head. “Thorin wasn’t like that. Besides, if you’d known Bil- Oh. Right.” Probably not the wisest of things to point out just exactly what Bilbo was able to do with magic to someone from the Chantry.

“We’ll get to that I’m sure,” the Seeker said drily. “You were going to tell me what happened before the Necromancer.”

“Bilbo didn’t really use his magic for that though,” Ori said and raised her chin. “He made a point not to.”

“If we’ve not yet arrived at the point in the story where the Necromancer enters, it’s definitely too soon to speak of what happened to the Chantry and the Grand Cleric, little one.”

“Did you- did you know her?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, you don’t have to know someone to be upset that they’re dead. And sometimes you know them and you’re not upset. I hoped that Bluebeard would be dead when we got back up from the Deep Roads. But we didn’t conveniently stumble over his corpse as Nori had wished that we would.”

“You already told me about this.” The Seeker shifted impatiently in her chair.

“Well I’m sorry,” Ori huffed. “I guess I eventually get a little confused after sitting here for goodness only knows how long. Had I started on how we were now all rich?” Not to mention she didn't like thinking about what had happened on the day Nori and the others had left Kirkwall.

“Let’s say that you had. I’m curious, did the Mage get any of the gold?”

“He did. And he helped people with it. Just like Thorin did.”

“ _Help_ ,” the Seeker scoffed. “But do go on.”

Ori was quiet, for long enough that the Seeker leaned forward enough that the light fell on her frown. She was younger than Ori had first assumed, perhaps not that much older than Ori herself.

“Scribe?”

“I don’t understand what you want,” Ori said helplessly. “Why do you want to know all of this? What purpose does it serve?”

“I need to know the whole story. You learn nothing from just reading the ending of a book. Especially one that might have pages missing.”

“What’s the story in the book you have here then? And by the Stone, who’s had time to make a book out of this mess anyway?” Steeling herself Ori pushed the book out of her lap for it to tumble to the floor. She didn’t like treating books like that, but she was tired of having it in her lap, tired of the lies it was sure to have about her family and friends.

“It’s one side of the story. One I’ve come to believe you would not agree with,” the Seeker drawled. “Which is _why_ I want to hear what you have to tell me.”

“One side of the story? But you said that there was only one truth?”

“There are several stories, but yes, only one truth.”

“I don’t-“

“This-“ the seeker knocked her hand against her armour. “This is steel, it is protection, it is mine. All those things are true, and none of them oppose each other so it is still parts of the one truth.”

Ori pulled at her skirt. “People are not as simple as that.”

“I beg to differ. Sometimes they might seem more complicated, but everyone does what they do for a reason, unless they are crazy. And even then there is a strange sort of reason to what they do.”

Ori shook her head. “No, I don’t agree with you. You can hate someone and love them at the same time. That’s two opposites. But it’s still true.  
“Ah, but you can’t love, or hate someone, and at the same time be indifferent about them,” the Seeker countered. “That is the true opposite. There is only one truth, but sometimes it takes time to discover it behind everything that would conceal it. Again, this is why I’m talking to you. You can tell me which of the things I know are no truths. At least as far as you yourself know.”

“By that reasoning you’d need to talk to half the people in Kirkwall,” Ori protested and the Seeker smiled wryly.   
  
“Who is to say that is not what I’m going to do.”  
  
“To find the truth,” Ori stated flatly.   
  
“To find the truth,” the Seeker agreed. “It is by seeking and finding the truth that we will all become free of sin. The truth will lead us to the Maker.”  
  
There was absolutely nothing that Ori could think to say to that, instead she scrambled to find a thread of the story to pick up.   
  
“Right, sure. So, after we got back we all needed some time to find our feet again. We had more gold that we could ever spend, but that doesn’t mean much beyond not having to worry about how to make a living. There’s plenty of things that coin can’t fix.” Ori paused. “Or buy.”


	12. Chapter Six - Finding Home

They were rich, but nothing Thorin truly wanted could be bought with gold. Frerin would not come back to life, and while he now had the means to buy an army it would likely still be foolish, if not suicidal, to try and reclaim Erebor even though the Blight had now ended. Bilbo would not love him no matter how much gold he had.

Yes. Thorin could admit to himself that it was what he wanted. Perhaps even more than he wanted his home back, because even reclaiming Erebor looked to be hopeless, that wouldn’t necessarily have stopped him before. They could at least have gone back to Ferelden and waited for the rush of Darkspawn to clear out, and prepare for what they would need to do.  
  
But… to leave Kirkwall would be to leave Bilbo. Not that Thorin was sure that the little man would notice.  
  
Bilbo had been avoiding him ever since they got back to the surface. Or rather after they’d returned the second time with the treasure.   
  
The avoidance was not done in an obvious way, Bilbo did not go out of his way not to be around Thorin, but if they had both been dragged along by Nori to have a pint at the Hanged Man, Bilbo made sure to never sit next to him. On the occasions when Thorin ventured in Darktown to say hello, Bilbo greeted him pleasantly enough, but was always too busy to even stop for a chat. Or he was simply not to be found.  
  
Oh, Thorin didn’t doubt that he was busy. But not all the time. Not busy enough to not even have time to talk for a few minutes, or to take a break and eat something. Hopefully the food Thorin had made a habit of bringing did not go to waste. Ever hopeful he always brought enough for two so at least that should mean that Bilbo would have plenty to fill his stomach with. Strange how being a Grey Warden made you need to eat more, but all things considered it wasn’t close to the strangest things Thorin had heard.  
  
Since the avoidance wasn’t overt, it had taken some time for Thorin to understand what was going on. But as Dís and Nori went to see Bilbo and never came back talking about how Bilbo had been too busy to see them he started to suspect. And when he realised that somehow they were never alone together, or close enough to even talk properly, Thorin finally clued in. He still brought Bilbo food, because even if Bilbo had his own share of the treasure he would have a harder time than any of them to buy anything with it. Even venturing out in Lowtown was a risk since it meant that he could run into the guards.   
  
But other than that, Thorin would have given up if it hadn’t been for Nori. She claimed that Bilbo was indeed interested in Thorin, but that he was afraid.  
  
“Afraid?” Thorin had repeated the word back at her, eyes wide in growing horror. “Of _me_?”

“No.” Nori had rolled her eyes, and Thorin had deflated somewhat. “Or yes, depending on how you look at it. Lo- liking someone very much is damned scary. And he obviously has got issues. So what you need to do is not to give up.”  
  
“Are you certain?” Thorin had asked, feeling doubtful. “If I’m not wanted-“  
  
“Oh, that’s not the problem,” Nori said with a smirk. “Tell you what, we’ll do a little experiment regarding that. The next time we’re all at the Hanged Man, you and I will play Wicked Grace, or Diamondback, your choice. And the loser of each hand will need to discard a piece of clothing. And I promise I’ll win.” Nori fluttered her eyelashes.  
  
“But-“  
  
“Just make a note of who can’t take their eyes of you. His name starts with a Bilbo.”

“Why do I ever listen to your ideas,” Thorin complained, knowing that he was going to agree.   
  
“Because good things happen when you do,” Nori grinned. “Haven’t you learnt that by now?”  
  
-  
  
It was questionable if sitting in just his undergarments in a crowded tavern was worth it in the end, but the way Bilbo had kept glancing at him only look away and blush… That might have been worth it, if only Nori hadn’t been so unbearably smug about the entire thing.   
  
Thorin hadn’t even tried to throw the game, so it was hard to tell if winning was the source of her smugness or if it was being proved right, but either way Thorin was relieved when Glóin joined them and Nori happily ended the game, seeming to be on a mission to make Glóin blush judging by the colour of his cheeks after Nori had slid into his lap and begun whispering in his ear. Judging by the way he kept stroking her side he at least seemed to be a very willing victim and Thorin left them to it, gathering up his clothes and awkwardly putting them back on again, trying to ignore the disappointed booing from some of the tavern’s other patrons.   
  
Bilbo had made his excuses around the time it’d seemed that Nori would win Thorin’s underpants as well, and Thorin had caught his eyes as Bilbo said goodbye and he’d become enchanted by the way Bilbo’s blush had darkened when they’d looked at each other. And he’d not missed the way Bilbo’s eyes had seemed unable to keep to his face.

Bilbo at least wanted him. That wasn’t too bad. Thorin could work with that. Only, not. During the following days Thorin could not get within ten feet of the little man without him disappearing. Not literally, but he was quick enough on his feet that Thorin almost suspected that magic was being used. Nori offered to have a talk with Bilbo on his behalf which Thorin turned down. He had the distinct feeling that she ignored this and sought Bilbo out anyway, because it seemed to Thorin that Bilbo began to avoid her as well.  
  
None of this was what Thorin wanted and-

“There is a mansion for sale in Hightown.”  
  
Surprised Thorin looked up at his father, trying to shake off the gloomy cloud that had gathered around his head.

“I thought we could buy it,” Thráin continued.  
  
“What do we need a mansion for? Glóin-“  
  
“Is courting Nori, don’t tell Nori I used the word courting; she’s even worse than your sister, and he might appreciate the privacy. Also, there is something about the mansion that I thought you might appreciate, even though the people selling it tried to hide it.” Thráin chuckled. “Because of that we might even get a very good price.”  
  
“What’s that then?” Thorin asked, appreciating his father’s good mood but not feeling like playing along with a guessing game.

Stroking his beard Thráin and gave his son a smug grin. “There is a passage through the cellar to Darktown. And guess whose clinic you end up just a few minutes’ walk away from?”  
  
After almost a minute of Thorin being too stunned to say anything Thráin clasped Thorin’s shoulder and gave him a small shake. “Your sister told me.”  
  
“Did she tell you about herself and Víli?” Thorin muttered.  
  
“I would say that my first clue is that he keeps coming around,” Thráin said with an uncharacteristically loud snort. “You, my dear son, were trickier as you only sit and brood. Do you know why they’ve not made anything official yet?”

“I think it’s just another sign of how this is not the lady that mother would have wanted her to be,” Thorin said with a faint smile. “They can’t possibly think that they’re being discreet.”  
  
“Hmpph,” Thráin grumbled and pulled at his belt. “Well, I guess I’ll need to have a talk with them.”  
  
“Please do so when I’m not around,” Thorin mumbled. “So why does this mansion have a passage to Darktown anyway.”  
  
“Apparently slavers owned it before the current owners.”  
  
Thorin frowned. “Slavers?”  
  
“They are not hiding in the corners,” Thráin scolded. “It’s been empty for a long time and it’s a perfectly nice house.”  
  
“Mansion, I think you said.”  
  
“It’s a perfectly nice place to live, that’s what I’m saying. Plenty of rooms for the three of us, as well as some spare ones. Do you think your sister will be wanting children?”  
  
“Father!” Thorin protested. He did not want to think about what getting children entailed, especially not with his sister as one of the parties involved.  
  
“Even if you and that young man sort yourselves out that’s not going to mean babies,” Thráin said in what Thorin was sure to be a reasonable tone. “Unless it is possible to do more things with magic than I have come to understand.”  
  
The look Thorin gave his father was definitely unimpressed and Thráin held up his hands.

“Just taking an interest in what my children are doing. And I want grandchildren.”  
  
“Father…” Thorin shook his head and was just about to try and change the subject to anything except spawning when a legitimate subject change occurred to him. “I- wait. How do you know that the passage leads to Bilbo’s clinic. Have you been going into Darktown on your _own_?”

“I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Thorin,” Thráin said with a huff. “But no, most of the times I've not been alone.”  
  
Oh, Thorin was going to have _words_ with Nori.   
  
“Most?” Thorin asked from between clenched teeth.

“Now don’t worry,” Thráin soothed. “Obviously I am perfectly fine. So how about the mansion? Would you care to come and have a look with me? Perhaps we can even manage to tear your sister away from the boy she’s not courting?”

Clenching his jaw Thorin bit back all the words that were not appropriate to say to your father and managed a terse nod instead.  
  
“Good,” Thráin said and clapped Thorin on the back. “Might you know where we could find your sister then? I hope getting a bigger place to live means that she’s home more often than she is now. It feels like I never see her anymore. But you-” Thráin patted Thorin on the back again. “Brooding isn’t very productive, son. Have you tried to talk to him? He seemed like a sensible enough fellow. And even if he says no then at least you’ll be able to move on.”  
  
“I’m not talking about this with you,” Thorin protested and glared up at his father.  
  
“I hope he’s not said no already,” Thráin said and gave Thorin a stern glance. “It’s one thing if he requires a bit of courting, I had a lot of fun figuring out gifts for your mother, but if he’s actually said no-“  
  
“He’s not said no.” Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Please, father, can we not talk about this?”  
  
Thráin hummed noncommittally but mercifully changed the subject. “Did you know where we could find your sister? I’ve not actually seen this house myself yet but-”  
  
“So there could be slavers hiding in the corners still?”  
  
“Bring your sword if you’re worried.” Thráin chuckled. “But the lady I talked to would likely lose a fight against a nug so I’d not consider it mandatory. She wanted a chance to spruce the place up a little before we had a look, so in a few days? But I’d still want to talk about it with your sister right away. Never appreciated secrets being kept from her, even when they’re not secrets.”  
  
Thorin, unfortunately, knew very well were Dís was, but he was hardly about to tell his father about how the Hanged Man had rooms that you could rent by the hour. It did prove that he had a point about them needing a bigger place to live though.   
  
-  
  
“There’s still no sight of Bluebeard,” Nori said and jumped up to sit on the kitchen table.   
  
“Don’t sit on the table,” Thorin murmured, not looking up from his dinner. Dís still wasn’t back, Thráin had already finished eaten and had gone off to help Glóin with something, which had suited Thorin fine. Not that he was brooding, but he simply wasn’t feeling very sociable.   
  
“I’ll be nice and not mention what else I have done on this table.”  
  
Eyes widening in horror Thorin pushed his chair away and snatched his plate up.  
  
“Oh, we cleaned it afterwards.”  
  
“You,” Thorin struggled to find words. All he could think of was how they _really_ needed to move now. “You-“  
  
“Me,” Nori agreed. “And Glóin. Thankfully nothing to do with Bluebeard. But still, I wonder where the bastard is hiding. I haven’t found anyone from his crew either. Not even a trace. All I need is one… and then they would tell me what I need to know.”   
  
“What if they wouldn’t want to tell you?” Thorin asked as he gingerly placed his plate down in his lap.  
  
“Oh trust me.” Nori’s smile didn’t reach her eyes and contained more teeth than strictly necessary. “They would tell me.”  
  
“They probably decided to leave Kirkwall then. If they got delayed in the Deep Roads we would not have been that far behind them. He, and his crew, might have disappeared once he realised that we survived. ” Thorin sighed and placed the plate back on the table. “Suddenly I’ve lost my appetite.”  
  
“Weak,” Nori scoffed, snatching up the plate and stuffing some of the roast into her mouth. “It just don’t make sense. Unless they died in the Deep Roads, but no skin off my back to find their corpses. The Stone can do what she wants with them.” Nori took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “So, shagged Bilbo yet? Rhetorical, I know you haven’t.”  
  
“That’s not how you use rhetorical questions.” Thorin sighed. Yes, moving needed to happen sooner rather than later. And that reminded him. “Have you been escorting my father into Darktown?”  
  
Nori suddenly acquired an entirely too innocent expression, which flowed into something more shifty-looking at Thorin’s stern glare. “Only a few times. And it’s not like I’d let anything happen to him.”

“Should I not?” Nori asked when Thorin was too busy glaring at her to make a comment. “He bought food for some of the families that could really need it. So-“ she shrugged. “Basically he’s doing the same thing you’ve been doing, only he actually asked me about it first.”  
  
Okay, so Bilbo was perhaps not the only one Thorin had left food for. But with the treasure they’d found they had more coin than they could need and it seemed senseless not to spend it on something worthwhile. Ori had told him about what she remembered about growing up in Orzammar’s Dust Town. About always going to bed hungry.

Feeding the people in the slums would not solve the problem, only soften a few rough edges, but it was better than nothing. He had been to the Alienage too, but that was… harder. The Elves were distrustful of anyone not their own kind and while Thorin could understand and sympathise with that, it was still… unnerving to be looked upon as if he was about to go for the closest throat.  
  
Nori had slapped him over the head when he’d tried to explain it and told him to leave the Alienage to Bilbo then, the Elves didn’t mind him, and he didn’t mind them.  
  
Sputtering Thorin had tried to explain that he just didn’t appreciate how they made him feel like he was doing something _bad_ by helping them but Nori hadn’t allowed him to get very far before smacking him again.  
  
“Thorin, I like you, I do, but listen to yourself will you? You’re whining about them making you feel bad since they feel like you’re _dangerous_. Guess why they feel that way? Maybe they’ve met people who look like you, or said the same things, and that ended up being a mess? Intentions don’t show on the outside so stop acting like _you’re_ the one being oppressed will you?”  
  
Thorin still didn’t much like Elves, but he could admit that Nori had a point. Nori had that annoying tendency to usually know what she was talking about. It was both one of her worst and best features.

What Thorin really would have wanted was to make some sort of lasting improvement, instead of just filling a few stomachs, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to go about such a thing.  
  
It wasn’t that Thorin was unused to living in a place where there was a clear difference between those who had nothing and those who had everything, with several strata in-between, nor was he unused to leaders who cared little for those at the bottom, but he couldn’t understand how Kirkwall even _worked_.   
  
The people living in Hightown was in a clear minority compared to those living in Lowtown, Darktown and the Alienage, just as the nobles had been a minority compared to the rest of the Dwarves in Erebor.   
  
But in Erebor there had been a strong and prosperous middle class, merchants, artisans, smiths, and many other professions like them. And below them an equally numerous working class of miners, nug farmers, gatherers and so on. Then there had been the casteless; the poor, the criminal and those preforming the tasks deemed too low for anyone else.  
  
The different strata of Erebor were not overly fond of mixing with one another. They were referred to as strata for a reason, because just as the stone itself each stratum had certain distinct qualities that separated them from the others so had the different classes in Dwarven society. But even so, things were not immovable. Noble hunters from the lower castes, even from the casteless, occasionally produced children which allowed them to make a radical leap upwards in a single bound. And the opposite could also happen, a once might House could shame themselves and have everything taken from them. Also while no one would publically admit to having dealings with the Carta it was still possible to throw a rock into a random collection of Dwarves and have it hit someone who had paid the crime syndicate for a ‘favour’ or two. The Carta held power, even over the nobles, even though it was made up out of the casteless.  
  
To sum it up, everything was separate but intricately connected. There was a balance. Things were not stagnant, even if they for sure couldn’t be said to be fluid.  
  
Kirkwall on the other hand…

In Kirkwall there was a small upper class, a small middle class mostly made up of merchants, innkeepers, guards and traders, and then came the huge, sprawling mass of people who just barely had enough to feed themselves, and below them those who could not even do that. And outside it all were the Chantry, the Templars and the Mages, all seeming to revolve around each other in a world of their own, not affected by much that occurred outside the Chantry and the Gallows.  
  
Those living in Hightown seemed to happily deny even the possibility of the existence of the poor, the criminal and the suffering; content to live in a happy little self-contained bubble of those who had everything and lacked for nothing. If pressed they could lower themselves to speak to those directly beneath them, like the merchants. But the expressions on their faces seemed to indicate to Thorin that it was not something they particularly enjoyed.  
  
The people in Darktown on the other hand seemed to just happily deny that the people in Hightown existed. They did not complain about the unfairness, or try to rise up and claim some of the wealth for themselves. The criminals seemed content to focus their activities on the people in Darktown and Lowtown, with only the occasional exceptions, and in return the guards rarely ventured all that far from the outskirts of Hightown.   
  
Erebor was a city where everyone understood that they had a part to play. If you were not happy with the one you had been given it was up to you to try and trade it in for something better given the means at your disposal. But the worst thing that could happen was being exiled and thus completely removed from the equation.   
  
Kirkwall… was a city made out of cities, all with different laws, customs, unwritten rules and idiosyncrasies.  
  
The more Thorin learned of Kirkwall the less he felt understood. 

Kirkwall was the city of chains not broken but worn proudly. The city of the Dragon content to stay on the ground and not test its wings. A free city, beholden to no one, but hopelessly tangled up in itself.

And somehow it survived.   
  
It made little to no sense, was likely bound to collapse on itself within a not so distant future, but Kirkwall’s people seemed just as proud as anyone who had lived in Erebor. Somehow, it worked.  
  
Somehow, the Stone help him, Thorin even liked it.   
  
They _should_ go back to Ferelden now that the Blight had ended. Go to Orzammar and begin to make plans to eventually reclaim Erebor. Their riches would not help the Darkspawn move back into the Deep Roads any quicker, but it would provide them with a comfortable life while they waited for it. A comfortable life amongst their own kind. Only… they weren’t going. And not only were they not going, but his father wanted to buy a mansion, Dís was (despite not admitting it) courting Víli and being courted in return, and Thorin had falling heads over heels in love with a human Mage who made as much sense as the city itself. A healer and a former Grey Warden.  
  
Really, it was no wonder that Thorin was fond of Kirkwall and Bilbo both, Dís had always accused him of enjoying things that were ultimately bad for him.  
  
Perhaps wanting to stay just meant that Thorin was sick of losing things. If his family bought passage on a ship back to Ferelden they would need to leave everything again.   
  
Or perhaps he was just tired. He was only a few years after his maturity but he felt at least as old as his father. Older perhaps, because after Thorin’s and the others’ return from the Deep Roads the older Dwarf had seemed happier and more content than Thorin had seen him in years. Perhaps even happier than he'd been since their mother had passed. And why shouldn’t he be. He didn’t have to worry about his trading partners finding out that his daughter was inexplicably a Mage. He didn’t have to spend any time with boorish nobles who looked down on him for venturing out onto the surface but at the same time wanted to keep things friendly because of the coin brought to Erebor by the Lyrium trade. And even if the loss of Frerin still weighed heavily on all three of them from time to time, the worst of the wound had finally scabbed over. Still tender, but not nearly as raw as it had been just a few months ago.  
  
Thorin was happy for him, happy for Dís, happy for Dwalin, for Nori, for all of his friends. For himself even, because he could hardly complain that he had a difficult life. He was content. And that was enough. Truly.

  
-  
  
“What do you think?” Thráin asked Thorin, ignoring the human scrutinising him from the corner, her look indicating that she was keeping an eye out in case he would try and put the entire mansion in his pocket and carry it off.   
  
Thorin wasn’t sure if this was the result of one of Nori’s insane stories (if Nori didn’t stop Thorin would… try and figure out a suitable payback that wouldn’t involve strangling her) or if the woman thought that he just looked untrustworthy, but either way, Thorin did his best to ignore it.  
  
“It’s big,” Thorin noted. “Both the rooms and the furniture. We would need to make amendments for us to even be able to use the kitchens properly. But I like the stone floor.”  
  
“Indeed,” Thráin agreed. “None of this wood nonsense. And it’s only ever big as long as we don’t have the people to fill it with.”  
  
As if on cue Dís burst in from another room and grinned at them both. “I love it!”  
  
“Grandchildren,” Thráin murmured to Thorin who merely shook his head. “And-“ Thráin glanced at the human in the corner. “Possibly others who you might eventually convince to move in if you stop dancing around the subject and actually have a conversation with.” Ignoring his son’s mulish expression Thráin smiled at Dís instead. “Might we have young Ori move in as well? I’m sure she must be sick and tired of Dwalin and Dori by now.”   
  
“Nah,” Dís said. “Give her a book or a scroll and she forgets everything else around her. I don’t think she’s suffering all that much, but I guess we can ask.” She rocked back on her heels and bounced a little. “I like this house. And I want the room on the ground floor next to the library.”  
  
“Library?” Thorin asked, because he hadn’t seen any library.  
  
“Well, it got a bookshelf,” Dís defended. “And it looks like a library would.”  
  
“With one bookshelf?”  
  
“There’s room for more.”  
  
“I thought it looked a bit like a nursery,” Thráin hinted, not at all subtle, and when both his children paid him no mind the older Dwarf sighed and went over to chat with the woman who still hadn’t moved from the corner. She thawed somewhat when Thráin gave her his best ‘I’ve got something you’re just going to love to buy’ smile, which was somewhat ironic considering that it wasn’t Thráin who was looking to sell something.  
  
“Do you want the room closest to the basement?” Dís asked and Thorin narrowed his eyes. “Please,” Dís added. “Don’t even try that look with me. But have the one on the first floor if it makes you feel better about yourself.”  
  
“Maybe I will,” Thorin said haughtily. “But who said that we’re even-“  
  
“Father is shaking hands with that lady now,” Dís said and nodded in Thráin’s direction. “So I’m guessing he did.” She patted her brother’s shoulder. “If you don’t want the room closest to the basement we can leave it empty. Just in case. But Bilbo is rather small, I’m sure he would fit quite nicely in yours.”  
  
“Unlike Víli who follows you around like a lost nuglet, Bilbo is not-“  
  
Dís was however no longer listening, already halfway up the stairs to inspect the first floor more thoroughly.  
  
-  
  
Thorin ended up with the room on the first floor, the others picking ones on the ground floor. And the room closest to the basement was left empty, at least for now.   
  
Dís was forced to admit that she and Víli were courting when Thráin would not let him spend the night before she had made that clear. Muttering all the while about how she’d just not wanted any pressure on either of them, but if there was such a rush they might as well get married right away. What did it matter. (Thorin had not liked the enthusiastic look Thráin got in his eyes from that suggestion. Dís was entirely too young to be thinking about marriage.)  
  
Ori said no to moving in, but got very enthusiastic about Dís suggestion about creating a library, much to Thráin’s consternation as he had grown rather fond of the idea of a nursery.   
  
But when faced with both Dís’ and Ori’s expectant faces he caved like a badly constructed ceiling and their new home acquired a library. Thorin didn’t care one way or another. Only… he had a feeling that Bilbo liked libraries more than he did nurseries, so he was secretly pleased.  
  
Ori definitely did like the library, and Thorin wasn’t sure if her frequent appearances in their home would be because she sought to flee Dori and Dwalin, because she wanted Thorin’ or Dís’ company or because of the books.  
  
Regardless, Thorin was always happy to find her tucked away in a corner with her nose in a book. It really was a big house, and having more people around would always be a good thing. Especially people Thorin actually liked. Not that he had anything against Víli, but there were certain things a brother did not wish to know about his sister and denial did not come cheap when they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other for more than a few minutes at the time. They had a room, a big one, so where was the issue of actually using it?  
  
Ori gave him a few pouches stuffed with dried peas which she had made to throw at Dori and Dwalin, who apparently had the same difficulty. Not only was it effective, but Thorin and Ori started a running game where you got points based on which body part you hit, so it was also rather fun. Not quite enough to make up for the mental scarring, but at least it was something.  
  
-  
  
“But you started with nothing, and so did we. And now-” Ori flapped her hand to indicate the room around them. “Now we’re here, in Hightown, even if I don’t actually live here-“  
  
“You could,” Thorin pointed out.  
  
“Right, so obviously it’s possible to move from one stratum to another.”  
  
“But we’re not really from Kirkwall,” Thorin explain. “And we’re Dwarves. We’re not part of the structure, we’re outside it.”  
  
“Like you mean the Chantry is?”  
  
“Not quite.” Thorin drummed his fingers against his knee. “We still exist in the structure, but not in the same way as the others, the Chantry isn’t-”  
  
“We can’t be outside and inside at the same time,” Ori argued. “Or do you mean how you live in Hightown but still go by the Hanged Man for drinks and how Glóin is still keeping the shop and his house but the people up here are suddenly a lot nicer to him?”  
  
Thorin sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it.”  
  
Ori patted his knee. “Well then, you think on that. I’m going to go and buy books. Do you want to help me carry them?”  
  
“Sure,” Thorin agreed. “Even if I doubt there are still books in Kirkwall that you or my sister have not already bought.”  
  
“You can try and explain what you meant again as we look?” Ori suggested as she got up from her chair and pushed her fringe out of her eyes. “Do you mean that we are sort of looping around everyone else?”  
  
“I guess you could say that.” Thorin got to his feet and stretched. “And on second thought, the Mages are perhaps not outside the structures at all. The Elves in the Alienage, the Mages. They’re pretty much like the casteless. Except even worse off, because I can’t think of anything they can do that would allow for them to move into a better position. Finding a fortune wouldn’t really help them.”  
  
“The Hero of Ferelden is a Mage,” Ori pointed out. “Warden-Commander Arwen. And I even heard a rumour saying that she’s Elf-blooded.”  
  
“But she’s not in Kirkwall now, is she.”  
  
They started walking down the stairs together, Ori with a small frown on her face and Thorin mostly lost in thought of if they should go by the Hanged Man. Just in case there’d be someone they knew inside. Someone short and blond and who would perhaps not make his excuses and disappear right away once he saw that Thorin wasn’t alone.  
  
“Fair enough,” Ori admitted and Thorin startled a little, thinking that Ori had somehow heard his thoughts. Instead she was just picking up their conversation where they’d left it. “But I still don’t see how we can be outside and inside at the same time. And it’s not like the people in Hightown likes us or anything. The people in Darktown likes you and Nori a lot more than the people in Hightown do.”  
  
“If I gave my coin to the people in Hightown I’m sure they would grow fonder of me,” Thorin said drily. “But I don’t see why I should since they have enough of their own.”  
  
“Bilbo doesn’t like the Wardens,” Ori said, lowering her voice even though they were still in inside the walls of the estate. “But they can’t be all bad, if they will make a Mage their Commander. Especially if she’s part Elf.”  
  
“I guess that depends,” Thorin said and reached out to ruffle Ori’s braids, smiling slightly at the cross look that earned him.   
  
“Depends on what?”  
  
“To start on whether this Arwen is a good person or not.”  
  
“You think she’s not? She helped stop the Blight.”  
  
“I don’t know her,” Thorin explained as he handed Ori her cloak. “So I don’t know what sort of person she is. But I don’t think you necessarily need to be a good person just because you don’t want Ferelden to be overrun with Darkspawn. It only takes a sensible person to figure out that’s a bad idea.”  
  
“I thought you liked the Wardens,” Ori huffed. “Have Bilbo been sharing secrets with you? Bad ones?”  
  
“He’s said nothing to me beyond what he said in the Deep Roads,” Thorin said shortly. “And I doubt he knows anything about what is currently going on with the Grey Wardens. But if being a Mage does not mean you’re a bad person, it can’t spontaneously make you a good one either. Neither can being an Elf.”  
  
“They don’t lock their Mages up though,” Ori said sagely. “So I’m still going to count that as a point in their favour.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Thorin agreed. The idea of Dís being shut up inside the Gallows, taken from her family, that was a horrid thought. One that could never be allowed to become reality.   
  
-

“Bilbo?” Thorin called softly as he opened the green door leading into the clinic. “Are you here?”  
  
There was no answer to his call and Thorin hadn’t really expected one. He’d gotten very used to Bilbo not being around when he came looking. Which was why he’d come prepared with a letter.

  
It had been a whole week without him seeing as much as a blond curl and Thorin… Thorin hated that.   
  
If Bilbo was afraid that he’d push for something that he wasn’t willing to give then Thorin would just need to make it clear that he’d need not to worry. The fool Thorin had made out of himself in the Hanged Man might have given him proof that Bilbo was attracted to him, but attraction did not meant that you needed, or even wanted, to act on it. That was well enough, but Thorin could not stand for Bilbo thinking that Thorin would ever try and force something on him.

Deciding what to write had been excruciating. Countless attempts had been thrown away for being too personal. Others for not personal enough.   
  
The end result was not a long letter. Nor one with a complicated meaning. It was definitely not one filled with flowery words. He’d not bothered addressing it, as he was leaving it in Bilbo’s home, it was rather obvious who the intended recipient was.  
  
Walking slowly through the room Bilbo used to treat his patients in Thorin moved into the small side chamber, deliberately not looking at the corner in which he knew there was a bed, and placed the scroll down on the small, battered desk standing against one wall.  
  
He hesitated just before pulling his hand back, trying to remember exactly what he’d written and if any of it was unsuitable after all.  
  
 _‘As you might know, Father has bought a house for us in Hightown. It has a spare room, and in the basement there is a passage leading to Darktown._ _Nori knows the way. I won’t use it. But you’re welcome to. Anytime. We’d all be happy to have you come stay with us.  
  
If you’d rather not, I hope to see you at the Hanged Man sometime. I miss your company.’_

  
Trying to decide how to sign it had almost taken as much time as writing the damned thing. In the end Thorin had just signed his name. He’d wanted to write something like ‘yours’, but what if that was too forward? He hoped Bilbo would read the letter and understand that whatever he chose to do, Thorin would respect that. He’d stop seeking Bilbo out, regardless of how miserable the thought made him feel.   
  
Telling Bilbo that he was ‘his’ might in light of that be a little too bold. But at the same time, Thorin wanted to sign it with ‘yours’, because he had a feeling that he was.

It was quite possible that he’d been overthinking the entire thing, but it felt like if he didn’t get the letter just right, he’d never talk to Bilbo again.

Leaving it on Bilbo’s work desk felt horribly like leaving a part of himself and Thorin bit the inside of his cheek as a reminder to not be stupid, it was just a letter. And it was very unlikely that anyone coming into Bilbo’s clinic who wasn’t Bilbo could even read. Even if they did, he’d deliberately not included a map to the passage, and it wasn’t even a love letter. Dís could have written the same thing, if Bilbo had been avoiding _her_. Which he wasn’t, because when Dís wasn’t fooling around with Víli she apparently studied magic with Bilbo, twice a week. He had time for her.  
  
Not that Thorin was still keeping track of things like that. That would be childish.

-  
  
“Have you seen father?” Thorin asked- an empty room. After delivering the letter to Bilbo he had wandered aimlessly around Kirkwall until his feet had started to complain. Coming back to the estate he’d expected to find Dís and Víli inside her room but it was decidedly empty. And Thráin was not to be found either.   
  
He considered going by the Hanged Man to see if he could find one or more of his missing family members but eventually decided not to. It was late enough that both of them would be home sooner rather than later. And since there was no notes they’d not intended to be gone for long anyway.  
  
With a small sigh Thorin accepted that he was alone, and went around the house to get the fires going again. Humans did not build their homes as Dwarves did and without fires almost constantly roaring in the fireplaces the house felt much too cold. Having only the one in his room left Thorin stopped by the library to pick out a book that he probably wouldn’t be reading, but it would do as a distraction.   
  
-  
  
When Thorin heard steps coming up the stairs he assumed that he’d missed hearing the front door open. The steps were too light to belong to his father or Víli, which was why he naturally assumed it was Dís.  
  
“Where’ve you been all afternoon?” Thorin asked without looking up from the book he held in his lap. “I was starting to wonder if you and Víli and father had decided to move without telling me. We’ve got ink and paper, ever considered- . Oh,” Thorin added succinctly when he finally did lift his gaze from the pages that could have been blank for all the attention he was devoting to them. “Hello.”  
  
“Hello,” Bilbo echoed, awkwardly bobbing his head in a endearingly nervous gesture. “I- should I leave?”  
  
“No!” Thorin blurted. “I mean, please stay. “Do you… supper? It’s almost supper time. And then tea, if you would like tea?”  
  
He stopped himself just before offering breakfast as well, and desperately tried not to think of how the door to his bedroom was just behind his back and how his bed was just a-  
  
“Or tea first?” Thorin offered, rising to his feet. He was an _idiot_. This was hardly the right way of going about things if he wanted Bilbo to be his friend first and foremost. At this rate, he’d send him running to the docks to board the first available ship.   
  
“I’ll- Dís is better at cooking than me, not that it’s saying much. But at least Ori isn’t around to practice. But I can make tea?” They probably had some bread as well. Or crackers, or something.  
  
“Considering that making tea mostly involves boiling water I would hope so,” Bilbo teased with the hint of a smile glittering in his eyes and lurking around one corner of his mouth. “Tea would be lovely, thank you.” He bit his lip, and Thorin forced himself not to look at it. “And if you want, I could help you with supper?”  
  
“You cook?” Thorin asked, just barely hiding a wince at how shocked he sounded. The man could do _magic_ , compared to that, cooking was hardly something to be impressed with.  
  
“I like to believe I can,” Bilbo agreed. He fidgeted a little. “I hope- I don’t want to presume. But you said I could stop by.”

“You can,” Thorin nodded. “Please.” Before he could add anything else he bit down on his tongue. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to remind himself that he’d promised to take things at whatever pace Bilbo was comfortable with. Still, if he’d known that a letter would have worked this quickly he’d left one weeks ago.   
  
“Thank you,” Bilbo said rather solemnly and Thorin nodded again.  
  
For a few moments they stood there, looking at each other in silence, and then Bilbo’s stomach grumbled. Loudly.   
  
“I’m sorry,” the little man apologised, pink blooms slowly darkening his cheeks.  
  
“Food,” Thorin said, gently cupping his hand around Bilbo’s elbow and turning him towards the stairs again, nudging him into motion. He should clearly have left food for Bilbo more often. Come to think of it, Thorin would not be surprised if Bilbo had given most of it away. It seemed like something he would do.  
  
“I didn’t-“ Bilbo protested. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”  
  
Thorin flicked his gaze over the blond’s too narrow frame but wisely withheld any comments. “Then I will assume you are here purely for the company. Or for the tea.”  
  
Before Thorin could begin to question if that’d been too forward or not he began talking about the first thing he could think of which was something inane as the weather. He’d spent too long on the surface by half if that was the first thing that came to mind, but at least it filled the silence well enough.  
  
As they started walking down the Thorin's stupid hand instinctively came up to rest lightly against the small of Bilbo’s back as support, and when Bilbo didn’t tense up, or offer any protests... Thorin was greedy enough to accept that as tacit approval and kept his hand there until they had both stepped off the last step  
  
“What I said in the letter,” Thorin blurted, completely ruining his plan of not pressuring Bilbo. “There is a room-“  
  
“I can’t stay here.”  
  
Thorin’s shoulder’s drooped.   
  
“It’s not safe,” Bilbo said apologetically. “If the Chantry decides to-“  
  
“No one knows about the access to Darktown,” Thorin quickly explained. “I should have said earlier, but-“  
  
“The person who sold you the-“  
  
“She’s not talking. We-“ At Bilbo’s look of disapproval one corner of Thorin’s mouth quirked slightly.

“Father paid her to forget it. She’s got nothing to gain from talking. She doesn’t know that we know you. And the Chantry doesn’t know about the passage so they won’t be asking about it. The woman selling the house was embarrassed by the passage to Darktown, and she thinks we are as well.”  
  
Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides Thorin made himself not reach out. “No one would know that you’re here unless they follow you. So if you come invisible… And it was actually Father who suggested that you could live here. He’s trying to get Ori to move in as well. Víli practically lives here already. You’d be more than welcome. We-”  
  
“Thorin, I can’t.”  
  
Bilbo sounded miserable enough that Thorin’s mouth clicked shut. The Dwarf swallowed heavily and looked at the floor before looking back at Bilbo.  
  
“But you’ll stay for supper?”

“I will,” Bilbo agreed. “Thank you.”  
  
For another few moments they again stood there, silently gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I-“ Thorin began then thought better of it. “We better start on dinner. Father and Dís will most likely be home soon.”  
  
-  
  
They were, and Víli trailed after Dís as had become his custom. None of them acted surprised at seeing Bilbo putter about in the kitchen, even if Thráin gave his son a meaningful look and a raised eyebrow which Thorin answered with a small shake of his head.  
  
Thráin hummed sympathetically and clasped a hand to Thorin’s shoulder.  
  
“Your mother didn’t say yes straight away either,” he murmured and Thorin snorted and then felt his ears heat up when Bilbo turned to look at them. Thankfully Dís distracted him with questions of what he was making and then Víli did an even better job of it by trying to sneak a few morsels from the pot. The wounded expression he gave Bilbo when the small man smacked his hand with the wooden spoon made Dís laugh brightly and offer to kiss it better.  
  
“Not in the kitchen,” Thorin and Bilbo protested as one, and Thorin felt his ears heat up even more at the look Bilbo gave him. It wasn’t any sort of passionate look, but it was a fond one. Thorin hoped that meant that Bilbo might have missed him as well.  
  
As they sat around the table, eating a simple but delicious meal of sausage, roasted potatoes, and cooked carrots and some other vegetable Thorin didn’t actually know the name of, Thorin felt truly content for the first time in a long time. Not to say that he didn't want more. But if this was what he would be given, it was more than enough.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to put a link, but if it's not been obvious before now, Elves in Thedas are considered to be worth less than the other races. Hit me up in the comments if you want me to go on about why, it won't really be relevant in this story.


	13. Present

“They were lovers when the Mage destroyed the Chantry, were they not.”  
  
Ori blinked. “I’d have thought that the important part of that sentence without have been about the Chantry going ‘boom’.” She winced. “Sorry, I didn’t-“ Ori fell silent and raised her head. “No, wait. I’m not apologising to you. You’re keeping me _prisoner_.”

She half-expected the Seeker to deny it, but the only response she got was a head tilted in what could have been a nod, or just… random movement not at all related to acknowledgement and instead perhaps a sign of impatience.

“They tried to hide their relationship.”  
  
“Not from their friends,” Ori argued. “And I’m sure you can figure out why Bilbo thought it best that no one knew. If the Templars had grabbed Thorin to try and get to Bilbo… That would not have been pretty. Just the two of them being friends would have been enough."  
  
“So what happened was better?”  
  
“I’m not going to answer that.”

“And now the world knows about their story.”  
  
“They know about parts of it,” Ori murmured. “But few are even close to the truth. They think it’s romantic and make parallels to King Aragorn.”  
  
“King Aragorn?”  
  
“Surely you must have heard the rumours about him, if you've heard the ones about Thorin. And it’s been easy for people to see the _similarities_.” Ori rolled her eyes. “Both dark and handsome. Tall for their kind. Both suffered losses early in life, and then again, most unexpectedly to Darkspawn. Both were triumphant. Heroes. And both loved a Mage.”

"King Aragorn is wedded to Queen Eowyn. “ The Seeker crossed her arms. “Haven't you proved to me that there is no truth in rumours?"

"So you don't think that the King fell in love with the brave Warden? The King and the Hero of Ferelden is a story told at all inns in Kirkwall.”

"This is not of interest to me."

Ori hummed.  
  
“Did you think that you were the odd one out?” The Seeker ask, startling Ori a little.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You were not courting or being courted,” the Seeker explained. “But your sisters were, and your friends as well. But you were alone.”  
  
“I wasn’t alone,” Ori protested. “You try being related to Dori and being alone. But apparently she is entirely right as you apparently get _kidnapped_ when you go anywhere by yourself.”

She probably should stop provoking the woman before it was too late, but she wasn’t just Dori’s sister, she was Nori’s too. Sometimes politeness just didn’t work.

“You remain unharmed,” the Seeker pointed out.  
  
“You mean beyond the emotional trauma,” Ori muttered.

“I need to find.. Oakenshield.“ There was half a moment’s hesitation before the Seeker said the name. Good. It was a stupid name. There weren’t even any oaks growing in Kirkwall seeing as it was a city and all. The Elves had their tree but that wasn’t an oak. Sometimes Ori just didn’t understand were Nori’s got these things from.  
  
“He is the important one,” the Seeker continued. “I’m only talking to you because I know there are things I need to hear.”  
  
“I don’t know where to find him,” Ori said warily. “I told you that already. And you keep asking me things which surely you already know. And you’ve not even told me why you want to find Thorin anyway. He’s not-“  
  
“Tell me, little one. Do you know what happened to the Circle of Magi in Ferelden?”  
  
“Yes,” Ori bit out. “Bilbo… He was inconsolable for weeks when he heard that they’d been killed.”  
  
“He did not agree that a tower full of possessed Mages needed to be dealt with?”  
  
“He didn’t believe that all of them had been possessed by demons. He said-“  
  
“He was right.”  
  
Ori blinked. “He was right?”  
  
The Seeker shrugged. “Most likely there were ones who were not yet possessed. But to find them, and to be sure, that would be much more risky than merely invoking the Right of Annulment. It’s risky enough sending Templars in to deal with them.”  
  
“You- but then innocent people died?”  
  
“Innocent for how long?” the Seeker scoffed. “Once a demon has crossed through the veil the Fade has been weakened. It is easier for others to follow. The Mages would have succumbed.”  
  
“You don’t know that. That’s not one of your truths.”  
  
“Oh, but I do know. That’s what always happens with taints like that, is it not? Does it not spread? But that was not the point I wanted to make. The Mages were killed, but where was the uproar? The protests? There were none. Because we had someone telling the people that it was necessary. That nothing could have been done. Someone people believed without a doubt. King Aragorn. Even if he wasn’t King at the time.”

“Did he know that it wasn’t really necessary?” Ori had of course never met King Aragorn, all she had was stories, but he had never seemed like someone who would agree to kill innocents.  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
“Does anything I’ve told you so far matter?”  
  
“He knew enough to know what he needed to tell people,” the Seeker said curtly. “During a Blight is no time to start more battles.”  
  
“There is not a Blight now.”  
  
“We have still no time for more battles. What the Mages and the Templars think, that matters little compared to what the people of Thedas thinks. If your friend tells them what they need to hear, they will calm down again. It began here in Kirkwall, and the end can begin here as well.” ~~~~  
  
“Thorin would not agree to that. He would never say that what Denethor tried to do was the right thing.”  
  
“Would he not? Weren’t you the one telling me that he was a lot like King Aragorn? And are you sure you know the limits of what he would do for the ones he loves?”

Ori bit her tongue. The Seeker had a point unfortunately. What Thorin had ended up doing for Bilbo… She’d not ever expected that from Thorin. And she was fairly sure Thorin hadn’t expected it from himself either.

The next part of the story she couldn’t tell... Not only was it private but Ori wasn't sure exactly what had happened. The day Thorin would talk to her about more intimate details about what he and Bilbo did was the day he shaved his head and declared himself to be a mushroom, and she would tell the Seeker as much. But whatever had happened, the results had been fairly obvious.

They’d been so happy.  
  


At least for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again with the making allusions to the story I'm going to end up writing ;) But all in good time.


	14. Chapter Seven - The Midnight Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty bit in this one.

“Can you- may I tell you something?”  
  
Thorin’s words made Bilbo raise his head and turn his attention from the flames dancing in the fireplace to the Dwarf. To Thorin the little man seemed especially beautiful bathed in the golden light and Thorin’s heart and empty hands clenched with almost equal fervour.  
  
They were the only ones still awake, or at least that was what Thorin supposed. The hour was late and Thráin and Dís and Víli had retired to their rooms, and Ori who had joined them for supper had also left, grumbling about how Dori and Dwalin better keep certain things quiet or she’d shove the linen closet in front of their door to try and keep out the noise.  
  
Thorin expected Bilbo to make his excuses and leave at any moment but before he did, he wanted- He needed to try and make things better. He needed to understand what was happening.  
  
Things had been tense between them for the last week, and for once Thorin felt entirely assured that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even Nori’s fault.  
  
Everything had been going well. The time they spent together had been like the time they’d shared down in the Deep Roads where they talked about various subjects and Thorin tried not to say something too stupid.

And then, on an evening very much like this one, when they had been sitting together in front of the fire, Bilbo had _kissed_ him. And then he’d run away. And the next time they’d seen each other they’d not talked about it. Bilbo had been tense enough that he’d seemed to Thorin like a rope about to snap, and despite not understanding what was going on, Thorin didn’t want to make Bilbo snap. So they hadn’t talked about it.  
  
“Of course,” Bilbo agreed, his tone easy but sudden stillness of his form anything but.  
  
“I love you,” Thorin said simply. “I’m not telling you because I want you to know, because I think you already do, or because I hope to sway you into returning my feelings. I’m telling you because I feel as if I would burst if I don’t say it.”  
  
The moments when Bilbo did not speak felt like the passing of an Age into another, but at the same time it was a period of peace. Thorin’s chest did feel lighter for finally saying the words.  
  
“Thorin, you don’t even know me.” Bilbo’s voice was quiet, and he looked not at Thorin but down at hands.  
  
“I don’t know you?” That seemed like a ridiculous statement. He knew the exact shades of Bilbo’s eyes and how he liked to have his tea. And many other things besides.  
  
Bilbo shook his head. “There are things I’m not telling you. About myself. Things I can’t tell you.”  
  
“You can tell me anything.”  
  
“I- can’t. Not all secrets are mine to give away.”  
  
“You don’t trust me.”  
  
“It-“  
  
“You don’t trust me,” Thorin repeated, leaning back in his chair. It hurt, but it wasn’t really a surprise. “Is there a way to make me forget?”  
  
“F-forget what?”  
  
“The things that you aren’t telling me. You could tell me what it is you're hiding, and if you then think I won't keep your secrets you can make me forget it.” Thorin snorted. “Believe me when I say I can’t lie worth a damn, you will see if you can trust me or not.”  
  
“Is there magic like that?” Thorin prompted when Bilbo didn’t answer.  
  
“Thorin-“  
  
“Is there?”  
  
“Not that I’d want to use on you. Thorin, you don’t understand why I-.”

“Then tell me, make me understand,” Thorin pleaded. “You don’t need to share your secrets if you do not wish to. I don’t care about your secrets. I- I love you. I’m sorry.”  
  
“You are sorry that you love me?”  
  
“Don’t,” Thorin said and turned to glare at the infuriating little man. “You know very well that is not what I mean. If anything I’m sorry that I’m not sorry. I know it’s not… what you want.”

“I want many things,” Bilbo sighed. “But there is a distinct difference between wanting and having.”  
  
“I am thankful to have your company,” Thorin tried. “That is all I would ever ask for, for myself. But- this which you do not speak up. Is there someone you could speak to? Nori, my sister?” There had to be someone he trusted more than Thorin. “It seems to weigh heavily on you.”

“I can’t.”  
  
“You don’t have to,” Thorin promised. “And I won’t mention it. But whatever it is, I swear to you it’s all right. It wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”  
  
“You can’t know that.”  
  
“And you can’t know that I can’t know.” Thorin smiled slightly. “Haven’t you heard about the infamous stubbornness of Dwarves?”  
  
Bilbo turned his head away and Thorin carefully placed two fingers at his jaw to judge it towards him again.  
  
“You don’t need to hide from me.”

Thorin leaned forward, slowly, but without hesitation. Bilbo's lips were slightly chapped, and Thorin kept the kiss light, even when Bilbo’s mouth opened beneath his. But sooner had Thorin touched his hand to Bilbo’s hair before the little man flinched and pulled back.  
  
Thorin eyes widened. That had happened the last time too. When Bilbo had kissed him he’d only… well there was really no other word for it, he’d only run once Thorin had raised his hand to cup his head.  
  
"I don't understand," Thorin said, hating the rough, almost angry note in his voice but not knowing how to get rid of it. "If- it seems like you want me? But, you do not wish for me to touch you? Please, just say so. We don't have to-"  
  
“Time to leave I think,” Bilbo said, almost absentmindedly , and when he moved to get to his feet Thorin put his hand on Bilbo’s arm.  
  
"No," Thorin protested. "Please. Can't we talk about this?" He probably should have written another letter. The letter had worked. This did anything _but_ work.  
  
"There is-"  
  
"Do not tell me that there is nothing to talk about. Bilbo. I- Whatever you wish to share of yourself, I'm happy with that. I promise I can be happy with that. And, I thought- I do not understand. Did something happen? Did- someone hurt you?"  
  
Even if Bilbo had magic that didn’t mean he could have defended himself. Not without giving that secret away. Just the thought made his blood boil.  
  
If someone had hurt Bilbo, touched him without permission, Thorin would kill them.

Bilbo looked at Thorin, his eyes wide with something Thorin couldn’t name, but it was vulnerable enough that Thorin wanted to wrap his arms around Bilbo and promise that nothing bad would ever happen again, and then spend the rest of his life proving that to be true.

"I've not been abused," Bilbo managed. “I’ve not ever- Thorin, I promise you it’s not like that. I just, I can't. I- need to go."  
  
Thorin’s shoulder’s slumped, and when Bilbo walked away, he did not stop him, or even say another word.  
  
In silence Thorin sat back down by the fire and watched as the fire as the flames died down to embers, and when the embers were almost ash he got up and walked to his chambers, his footsteps echoing hollowly on the stone steps.

The fire in Thorin's chambers was all but dead as well and he did not bother coaxing it to life. Getting undressed was a task that required no thought and Thorin spared it none. Slipping beneath the cold sheets made him shiver but he didn’t care.  
  
When a noise woke him Thorin first thought that he was seeing things, that the pale figure standing next to the bed couldn’t be real. It had to be but a figment of his mind lingering from dregs of sleep.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
“I want to trust you. But, it’s- can I trust you?”

“I’d never do anything to hurt you,” Thorin murmured as he sat up, awkwardly getting an arm beneath himself to push himself up from the pillows. “I swear to you.”  
  
A tremulous smile touched Bilbo’s lips. “I am _nothing_ like you think I am.”  
  
“Then, may I know you?”

Bilbo spun around and walked away from the the bed and Thorin almost called out a protest. But Bilbo didn’t leave. Instead he walked over to the desk to light a candle. His hands trembled slightly and he had to try two times before he succeeded.

“Do not do something you do not want,” Thorin said slowly. “I want you to be happy, I want to make you happy.”

“And I want to same for you,” Bilbo replied quietly. Edging the candle a little further in towards the middle of the desk, Bilbo then bent and started to unlace his boots. Thorin made a wordless noise of protest, but before he could manage something more coherent Bilbo had straightened up again. If he had started on the rest of his clothes Thorin would have been forced to gather his wits and say something, but Bilbo did not. With a shaky sigh he tucked a mass of unruly curls behind one ear and then met Thorin’s eyes.  
  
"There," he said and Thorin blinked in confusion. He slid out of bed, moving slowly as to not cause alarm, quietly thanking himself for not undressing fully before going to bed. He might only have his underpants on, but at least that was something.  
  
"I don't understand?"  
  
"You need to look."  
  
Thorin let his eyes sweep over the familiar, and - indeed very much - beloved features of the little man.  
  
He realised that it was perhaps the first time he was able to see -  
  
"Your ears?" Thorin said, shocked. Slowly he lifted his hand to brush Bilbo’s curls away from the other ear. The markedly pointy ear. "You've Elven blood? But Half-Elves look completely human.”  
  
“Look closer.” Bilbo closed his eyes and looked to be bracing himself for bad news. He took a deep breath, and another one, and then toed off his boots. “Look at my feet.”  
  
“Your-“ Thorin looked down and his mouth dropped open in surprise. A foolish thought sailed up to the forefront of his mind, one about how Bilbo wasn’t wearing socks. But that was not what had caused his surprise.  
  
Thorin had known Bilbo had big feet, if he’d not seen it for himself Dís had certainly teased him about it enough for him to know. But they were even bigger than he’d expected, big enough that the boots must have caused some discomfort. Bilbo’s toes were also longer than normal, and most surprising was the curly hair that covered the top of the feet as well as the big toes.  
  
“Curly hair, pointed ears, big hair feet,” Bilbo murmured. “Shorter than even the Dwarves but lives in a forest instead of the mountains. Knows magic and can walk unseen.”  
  
“It cannot be,” Thorin breathed, looking into Bilbo’s eyes to try and find a teasing twinkle or a sly look. But all he found was a quiet determination just barely managing to hide what looked like fear.  
  
“It can,” Bilbo said simply. “I'm a Hobbit.”  
  
A Hobbit? He might as well have called himself a Griffon. To Thorin both those things belonged in the same category. Myths and legends. Had there ever been a truth buried beneath the tales it had long since been forgotten. Thorin glanced down at Bilbo’s feet again. Those were most definitely not mythical.  
  
“Is that why you eat so much?”  
  
Oh no. Thorin’s eyes widened in horror. Why had he asked something like that. He was an idiot. He was lucky he hadn’t accused Bilbo of stealing children or bewitching animals. Or any of the other things Hobbits were supposed to do.  
  
To Thorin’s relief his comment actually prompted a small laugh from Bilbo. It had a bit of an edge, and a hint of a hiccup to it, but it seemed like a honest one. And his hands had stopped shaking.  
  
“I’m so sorry-“ Thorin began.  
  
“No, no,” Bilbo shook his head making his curls tumble lose from behind his ears once more. “It’s quite all right. And I think you’re at least half right. Hobbits need more food than Dwarves or Men or Elves, but I’m perfectly willing to blame the Grey Wardens for most of my appetite. But you, you believe me?”

Thorin blinked. “Why would you lie to me about something like this.”  
  
“I might be crazy?”  
  
“And the feet?”  
  
“Surely they could- wait.” Bilbo snorted. “I’m fairly sure that I’m supposed to be convincing you, not the other way around.”  
  
“I believe you,” Thorin promised. “This-“ He gently parted Bilbo’s curls and touched two fingers to the shell of Bilbo’s ear. He tried to be careful and give Bilbo plenty of time to pull away but the blond still shuddered slightly. “This is why you ran? You thought I would see?”

“Partially,” Bilbo said. “It’s, complicated.”  
  
“What you are does not change who you are,” Thorin said quietly, moving his hand down to cup Bilbo’s face. “If you do not wish to tell me anything more, that is fine.”

“Surely you must have other questions.”  
  
Thorin had a great many questions. And precious little capability to try and arrange the words in his head into something even remotely intelligent. Hobbits. They were not supposed to be real. But he could no more doubt Bilbo, and what he could see with his own eyes, than he could doubt the ground beneath his feet. Bilbo had no reason to lie, and Thorin did not think that he was. So what he was saying had to be true.  
  
“You, the second time we met you said that you wouldn’t tell Nori your biggest secret.” Thorin licked his lips. “Is this it? Your secret?”  
  
“Yes.” Bilbo nodded and it rubbed his smooth cheek against the palm of Thorin’s hand. “It is.”  
  
“Then I’m honoured,” Thorin said quietly, leaning down to brush his forehead against Bilbo’s.  
  
“My people-“  
  
“You don’t need to tell me,” Thorin interrupted. He did not like the strained tone of Bilbo’s voice. “And if I don’t need to know, perhaps you shouldn’t tell me. That you’ve told me this much-“  
  
“There’re… other things.” Bilbo’s gaze slid away and he took a small step back. Thorin became at once aware of how little clothes he was wearing and he shifted awkwardly on his feet.  
  
“I should get dressed.”  
  
“Oh-“ Bilbo’s eyes widened and a familiar blush bloomed on his cheeks. “I hadn’t… noticed. I’m sorry.”  
  
“That does not sound like a compliment,” Thorin mused as he went over to one of the stuffed chairs by the fire and fetched the shirt he had carelessly thrown over the back of it.

“No,” Bilbo protested. “I mean, yes. I- you are very handsome. You are teasing me,” Bilbo added uncomprehendingly when he saw the small smile on Thorin’s lips. “You are not really reacting as I thought you would.”  
  
“It’s a good sign, surely?” Thorin asked as he pulled on the shirt. Considering how terrified Bilbo had looked, he rather thought this was a great improvement.  
  
“Quite,” Bilbo admitted. “I’ve never told anyone. I think the Grey Wardens, some of them at least, knew. They figured it out before my hair grew long enough to completely hide my ears. And- but that doesn’t matter.”  
  
“Your friend, the one who wanted to join the Wardens with you, did he know?”  
  
“Yes. Erestor.” Bilbo smiled slightly. “He was one of the Dalish. We consider ourselves cousins to the Elves. They keep our secrets, we keep theirs.”  
  
“I’ll keep yours,” Thorin promised.

“It’s- I’m not a good person. If I was, I wouldn’t be here. It’s not safe for you.”  
  
“Because of the Templars?”  
  
“The Templars, the Grey Wardens, me. I’m not- I’ve dreamt of you.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Thorin said cautiously. He had dreamt about Bilbo as well, not while he slept but even Dwarves could daydream. Not that he was about to share those dreams. Some were… not the type to be shared. Not when he didn't want Bilbo to feel pressured into anything.  
  
“No, I mean-“ Bilbo muttered something annoyed sounding beneath his breath and bit his bottom lip. “Some of my kin have dreams where they can see the future. I’ve never been one of them, at least not until we found the stone in the Deep Roads.”  
  
“The one Bluebeard took?”  
  
Bilbo nodded. “Somehow that stone was… it was like it was made from magic. After I touched it, it did something to me.”  
  
“Did something to you?”  
  
“The Fade.. changed.” Bilbo shook his head. “I can’t explain it. And when we got back from the second trip down into the Deep Roads I began to have dreams. Incredibly vivid ones. About you. But it’s beginning to fade now.” Bilbo’s lips twitched. “And fittingly enough the Fade has started to feel normal again.”  
  
“What did you dream?”  
  
“I- Many things. I dreamt about this,” Bilbo swallowed. “Only you were upset with me. You didn’t believe me.”  
  
“Then the dreams are not about the future.”  
  
“There have been other dreams. It’s- Didn’t you wonder how I managed to avoid you?”  
  
“You admit to it?”  
  
“Yes- I. I knew you were coming, more often than not.” Bilbo looked down, his eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I- needed time. My kin, they told me that they only see the possible, what can happen. And if you are careful, you can change it.”

“Which is why I’m not upset with you right now?”  
  
Bilbo shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought you would be. But even in the dream you didn’t stay angry with me for long. You-“ again the pink blossomed on Bilbo’s cheeks. “Never mind.”

“No, that sounded interesting,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“I need to finish telling you this,” Bilbo pleaded. “Please.”  
  
“Of course.” Thorin felt slightly ashamed. Had he already forgotten that he was not going to pressure Bilbo into anything. Enticing blush or not.  
  
“One dream, I dreamt so many times I- I’ll never forget it. We’re in the Gallows courtyard. And I think… I think you are dying.” Bilbo swallowed. “And I think it’s my fault.”

“Dís has told me about her dreams, she gets nightmares-“  
  
“It’s not a nightmare.” Bilbo bit his lip. “I’m going to do something, and it’s going to kill you.”  
  
“You can’t know that. Didn’t you just say that things can change?”  
  
“You would be safer without me around.” Bilbo swallowed and looked away. “I’m here to help people. I’m not- if anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”  
  
“I know if something does happen, it won’t be your fault.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault or not,” Bilbo protested. “I won’t have anything happen to you.”  
  
“I love you,” Thorin said, the words coming unbidden to his tongue.  
  
“That’s not to do with anything. And you shouldn’t,” Bilbo warned.  
  
“Could you, do you think you could feel the same?”  
  
“I already do.” Bilbo smiled. “Of course I already do.”

“You do?”  
  
“How could I not?” One of Bilbo’s shoulders rose in a small shrug.  
  
Thorin shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”  
  
“Really, this is the part you’re not going to believe?”  
  
“I-“ Thorin hesitated. “I feel like I might be dreaming. Only I’m a Dwarf. I don’t dream.”  
  
“So if this is a dream,” Bilbo murmured. “Then it’s mine?”  
  
He rose up on his toes and pressed a barely there kiss against Thorin’s lips.  
  
“I like this dream,” Bilbo whispered as he took Thorin’s hands and moved them to rest at his waist.  
  
“Bilbo,” Thorin said, more sigh than word. He stroked his thumbs up and down over the soft cloth covering Bilbo’s skin.  
  
“I love you,” Bilbo said solemnly and Thorin groaned and leaned down to take his lips in a fierce kiss. Bilbo responded in kind, one of his hands coming up to clutch at Thorin’s shoulder, the other burrowing into Thorin’s hair to hold him close.  
  
Thorin nipped at Bilbo’s bottom lip, smiling into the kiss when Bilbo made a surprised little meeping sound. As apology Thorin pulled back and pressed a myriad of tiny kisses to the little hurt.  
  
“It’s fine,” Bilbo complained. “Don’t stop kissing me.”  
  
“I am kissing you,” Thorin argued, pressing a kiss to the tip of Bilbo’s nose. Then another as it crinkled in surprise.  
  
“It’s not wise to tease a Mage,” Bilbo warned when he tried to kiss Thorin, only for Thorin raise his own head and instead press a kiss to the wrinkle between Bilbo’s brows. “We have ways of getting even.”  
  
“Looking forward to it,” Thorin murmured. The next second invisible hands pushed him backwards, and he laughed as he fell onto the bed. No sooner had he oriented himself before he had a lapful of Bilbo.  
  
“I told you,” Bilbo said primly before leaning in for a proper kiss.

“Wait,” Thorin asked, and Bilbo immediately froze. “Could you make more light? I’d like, to see you, if you would not mind.”  
  
The candle was the only light in the room, except for the slight glow coming from the window. But it was night, and the stars and moon provided little help in illuminating Thorin’s chambers.  
  
Bilbo murmured something beneath his breath and a golden ball of light sprung into life between the palms of his hands. It was bigger than the small white orbs that had appeared in the Deep Roads, and more beautiful by half, and Thorin raised a hand to touch it before hesitating and looking up at Bilbo who nodded.

“It’s not warm. It’s just light. But I don’t think-“  
  
“I can’t feel anything,” Thorin remarked as he moved his hand through the ball of light.  
  
“-that you’re going to feel anything,” Bilbo finished with a smile. “It does not bother you? The magic?”  
  
“I told you I can’t feel it,” Thorin replied, somewhat confused.  
  
“No, I mean, that I’m able to do magic. That I am a Mage.”  
  
“I already knew you were a mage,” Thorin pointed out. “Having you in my bed has not brought a sudden realisation on that part.”  
  
“I guess not.” Bilbo’s smile broadened. “You are quite a wonder really.”  
  
“Me?” Thorin shook his head and leaned up for another kiss.  
  
The kiss turned into a multitude of kisses and Thorin had just began to tug Bilbo’s shirt away from his trousers when a thought occurred to him.

“Wait.” Thorin cupped Bilbo’s face and brushed his thumb over a flushed cheek. “You were young when you left your kin. And if you’ve never told anyone, have you done this before?”  
  
Bilbo shook his head, looking mutely down at Thorin. His lips were ever so slightly puffy from the kisses they had just shared and hazel eyes were slightly glazed. Thorin was sure he’d never seen anything more desirable.  
  
“Are you sure? I mean, that you want to?”

“I want you.” Small, clever fingers plucked at the hem of Thorin’s shirt. “And I want this shirt off you.”

When Thorin still hesitated Bilbo huffed. “I’m not sure if I know how to make a shirt disappear but I’m willing to give it a try. Would be a shame if other parts disappeared as well.”

“Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” Thorin asked as he ran his hand over Bilbo’s arms. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I might have imagined something like this. Once or twice.”  
  
“Once or twice?” An eyebrow quirked and Thorin traced it with a finger.  
  
“More would surely be greedy,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“Then I am greedy,” Bilbo replied, wrapping his hand around Thorin’s and squeezing. “Please take off your shirt.”

“You are fully clothed,” Thorin pointed out. “Perhaps you need to set a good example.”  
  
“There is more of you too look at,” Bilbo said and let his free hand sneak down beneath Thorin’s shirt, moving upwards over muscle and hair-peppered skin. “Obviously I need more time.”  
  
“Are you going to argue about this?” Thorin asked, amused and started pulling Bilbo’s shirt from his trousers once more. “You argue about the most ridiculous things.”  
  
“If you are referring to the conversation we had about vegetables I have not yet given up hope that you and your family will eat something other than potatoes and carrots.”  
  
“We’re Dwarves.” Thorin smiled triumphantly when his hands found skin.  
  
“That is not a good explanation to everything, regardless of what you might think.”  
  
Shaking his head Bilbo stopped pulling at Thorin’s shirt and sat back to better unbutton his own.

“You are beautiful,” Thorin said throatily as golden-pale skin were revealed to him. As the scar on Bilbo’s left shoulder was uncovered Thorin sat up and pressed his lips to it, his arms wrapping firmly around Bilbo’s waist. “And you taste delicious. Are you perhaps a vegetable by any chance? Since you claim them so delicious. Hobbits are supposedly part plant I hear.”  
  
“We are not,” Bilbo grumbled.  
  
“So the stories about you walking about without shoes to better feel the earth below your feet, that’s not true then?”  
  
When Bilbo didn’t deny it Thorin grinned and stole a kiss.  
  
“I never thought you’d react like this,” Bilbo said, a small smile playing about his lips.  
  
“Bilbo, you said that you love me. You can tell me that you’re part nug-“  
  
Bilbo’s mouth twitched. “Are you calling me a small pink, pig-like creature?”  
  
Thorin shook his head. “That’s not-“

“I do love you,” Bilbo said sincerely, tangling his fingers into Thorin’s hair.

There was only one thing Thorin could do when faced with that, and that was to kiss Bilbo, to try and taste the words on his lips.

“I want you so much it’s frightening,” Bilbo whispered, his breath hot and sweet against Thorin’s skin. “I’ve never felt like this before.”  
  
A more primal part of Thorin crowed in pleasure, eager to be Bilbo’s first in all ways that counted. His only. Just as Bilbo would be Thorin’s last.  
  
He cupped Bilbo's face between his palms and stroked his thumbs over smooth cheeks. Wide hazel eyes were flecked with gold from the light Bilbo had summoned, and perhaps from the candle as well.

"I am selfishly glad for that," Thorin confessed. "But I'm sorry if you've been lonely. I can't- the thought of you with someone else is not one that brings joy.” In fact it made Thorin’s blood all but boil. “Except for how I would give anything to have you happy."

"I'm not lonely now. And it's your bed that I'm in. Your arms."

"Believe me I'm well aware of that.” Thorin pressed his palm over Bilbo’s heart. “Will you show me how you want to be touched?"

"My ears are sensitive," Bilbo warned. "Other than that, I don't think there is a way you'd touch me that I wouldn't want."

“And yet you protested when I kissed you before,” Thorin pointed out.  
  
“You were kissing my nose,” Bilbo protested. “I think there are better places for you to kiss.

“Please, name them,” Thorin murmured. “Or should I go exploring?” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s chest, where his hand had just rested.  
  
As if by magic, and the thought made Thorin smile, Bilbo’s nipples pebbled and he shivered where he was straddled over Thorin’s lap.

“What you should do is to get rid of your clothes,” Bilbo said and plucked at Thorin’s shirt again.  
  
“But then I would need to let you go,” Thorin argued and stroked his hands over Bilbo’s bare back. “Perhaps you would run again?”  
  
He’d meant it as a jest, but it came out as something far too serious to be one.  
  
“I won’t,” Bilbo said quietly. “This is where I want to be.”  
  
For that Thorin had to kiss him again, and he would had been happy to continue to do so if not small hands had pushed at his chest, pointedly fisting in his shirt.  
  
“Clothes,” Bilbo said and Thorin stole another kiss before pulling back.  
  
“You will need to climb off me then.”

“Only a minor set-back,” Bilbo promised as he swung his leg over Thorin’s and settled on his knees. “I- oh.”  
  
Not wanting to waste more time than strictly needed Thorin had made short work of his few items of clothing once Bilbo was no longer pushing him down into the bed. Sitting up he pulled his shirt over his head and then laid back down to push his underclothes down his legs, lifting his hips and then kicking his feet to send them flying to the bedroom floor.  
  
It was anything but a carefully arranged seduction but Thorin was no less gratified by seeing the flush that came to Bilbo’s face as he let his eyes rake down Thorin’s naked body. And Thorin definitely enjoyed the speed with which Bilbo got rid of his own clothes, even if he’d not minded getting to help. But there would be other times. Thorin _knew_ that there would, because Bilbo loved him, and wanted him, and had chosen him. As soon as the last piece of clothing had been dealt with Thorin reached out his hand and pulled Bilbo closer. They were both kneeling on the bed, facing each other.  
  
"You are very hairy,” Bilbo said and stroked his hand down Thorin’s chest.

Thorin smiled, because even though the words could be taken for a complaint, the wondrous and pleased note in Bilbo’s voice made it the highest of compliments.  
  
“And you are not.” Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s shoulder, and another one to the side of his head. “Well, most of you are not. I would suspect that your head and feet have conspired against the other parts.” Bilbo chest and stomach were entirely bare and he only had small tufts beneath his arms and a rather neat patch of curls between his legs. Thorin licked his lips as he looked at Bilbo’s half-hard shaft. 

Despite his attempt at levity something insecure flashed over Bilbo’s face. "Are you- you're really taking this so well. I have to say it's making me a little nervous."

"I told you that you can tell me anything," Thorin said and reached for Bilbo’s hand, twining their fingers together. He had been quite sincere before. As long as Bilbo loved him he was welcome to be half nug, half troll if it pleased him. It was not his blood or ancestry that Thorin desired.

The feet were a little strange to be sure, but Thorin cared more about how whether he could make Bilbo's toes curled in pleasure than about the form of said toes. Suddenly remembering what Bilbo had said about his ears Thorin pushed a tangle of curls away and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the lobe. Despite hardly making contact with it the result was instantaneous and Bilbo moaned and shuddered.  
  
“Is this-“

“Yes, yes,” Bilbo gasped and tumbled Thorin down into the bed, pressing a fevered kiss to his lips. “But if you don’t want things to end very abruptly and embarrassingly, you will not do that.”  
  
“They’re that sensitive?” Thorin asked, gathering Bilbo in his arms and sitting back up again. He was tempted to kiss Bilbo’s ears again. He wanted to see his love’s face twisted with pleasure and for him to lose himself in it. He wanted to be the cause of it.  
  
“At… times,” Bilbo said a bit awkwardly. He squirmed in Thorin’s lap and the Dwarf tightened his grip on Bilbo’s hips. “Not all the time, just like I don’t feel aroused when I’m… relieving myself. Holding myself then.”

Thorin was confused for a moment before he took Bilbo’s meaning. “Oh, you mean passing water.”  
  
“Could we perhaps change the subject?” Bilbo asked and Thorin grinned and laid back against the bed. He spread his arms and quirked an eyebrow as he met Bilbo’s eyes.  
  
“I am yours to command.”  
  
The look in Bilbo’s eyes made Thorin feel powerful enough to take on the world.

“You’re beautiful,” Bilbo said softly and braced one hand on Thorin’s thigh and the other on his chest to lean down and kiss him.  
  
Resisting the urge to roll them and press Bilbo down into the bed and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe Thorin tried to keep the kiss light and unthreatening. It was Bilbo’s first time and Thorin would do best not to overwhelm him.  
  
Unfortunately, or perhaps not, Bilbo did not agree and the kiss quickly turned heated again, Bilbo's small fingers stroking Thorin's cheek and combing through his beard, nudging his head back to be able to kiss him as he liked.  
  
Getting a hand between them Thorin curled his fingers around Bilbo’s shaft and stroked it from root to tip, then pushing the lose skin down from the head so he could swipe his thumb over the wetness beginning to gather there.  
  
Bilbo shuddered and pressed his hips into Thorin’s hand.  
  
“Yes,” Thorin murmured and stroked his free hand down Bilbo’s back to knead his arse and encourage him to move. “Just like that.”  
  
“You’re distracting me,” Bilbo protested.  
  
“I am?” Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s collarbone. “What did you have in mind then?”  
  
“I want to- to touch you too.” Bilbo’s voice hitched when Thorin twisted his hand just so and he immediately did it again.  
  
“Then touch me,” Thorin said and turned his attention to Bilbo’s other collar bone, grinning when yet another type of stroke made Bilbo dig his nails into Thorin’s thigh. “But I think I’ve been wanting to touch you since the moment I saw you, so I’m not stopping unless you tell me I have to.”  
  
“You’ve not,” Bilbo protested and Thorin hummed.  
  
“I could not stop thinking about you. Truly.”  
  
“Prob- _ah_ -bly wondering-“ Bilbo knocked his forehead against Thorin’s shoulder, the heavy fall of slightly sweat damp curls tickling Thorin’s skin. “I can’t think if you’re doing that.”  
  
“Good,” Thorin said with a not insignificant amount of satisfaction. His own cock lay untouched against his stomach but it could wait.  
  
“May I?” Thorin carefully rolled Bilbo onto his back. “Is this all right?”  
  
The blond curled his arms around Thorin’s neck. “No, because you’re not kissing me.”  
  
Not waiting for a reply Bilbo pulled Thorin’s head downwards and Thorin went willingly.  
  
“Wrap your legs around me,” Thorin encouraged, stroking his hands along the peach soft skin of Bilbo’s thighs.  
  
Swallowing Bilbo did just that, his heels coming to rest at the small of Thorin’s back. Leaning forwards to steal another kiss Thorin rolled his hips, rubbing their shafts together and pressing them between their stomachs.  
  
“Oh.” Bilbo threw his head back and the smooth length of his neck was something Thorin could not resist. He kissed his way up it, over Bilbo’s jaw and stopped just before his ear.  
  
“If you come now,” Thorin whispered. “Do you think you can do so again tonight?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Bilbo said shakily.  
  
“Do you want to find out?”  
  
Bilbo huffed and dug his heels into Thorin’s back. “I should not have told you about my ears.”  
  
“I like it when my hair is pulled,” Thorin confessed with a small smile. “And when my nipples are being touched. They’re not as sensitive as your ears, but almost. But above all, I love you.”  
  
The look in Bilbo’s eyes was oddly solemn as they met Thorin’s smiling ones.  
  
“I do love you, Thorin. I tried not to. I’m not someone you should be with.”  
  
“I’m glad you did not succeed then.” Wanting to provide a distraction Thorin rolled his hips again and the sad look in Bilbo’s eyes was replaced by desire.  
  
Clever finger tangled themselves in Thorin’s hair and pulled tentatively. It wasn’t hard enough for Thorin to really feel it but he still made encouraging noises and kissed Bilbo in thanks. Cupping Bilbo’s cheek Thorin stroked the tip of his index finger along the shell of Bilbo’s ear, grinning into the kiss when Bilbo shuddered beneath him.  
  
Feeling the grin Bilbo nipped at Thorin’s mouth and pulled warningly at his hair. Now it was Thorin’s turn to moan and shudder and they continued to explore each other until Bilbo stiffened and clung to Thorin’s shoulders, spurting between their bodies.  
  
Having not been given any warning Thorin was a little surprised but definitely not displeased. Chasing his own peak Thorin focused on the feel of Bilbo beneath him, the glazed and pleased, almost lost, look in his eyes and it was not long until he too tumbled over the crest.  


-  


Dawn was a pink light behind the curtains when Thorin's eyes blinked open. His body was accustomed to waking early and despite only having gotten a few hours of sleep it was prepared to greet the new day. Foggy and disorientated it took him a while to remember why he felt so tired, why he was so warm and why his arm felt rather numb.

The answer to all those questions was to be found inside the circle of his arms.  
  
Bilbo, still asleep, was stretched out on top of Thorin like a blanket; most of his weight resting against Thorin's right shoulder and arm and as such more than a probably reason as to why Thorin's fingers were prickling as if someone was poking them with needles.

Soft blond curls moved against Thorin's jaw with every breath Bilbo took and when Thorin buried his nose in them he could have sworn they smelled like sunshine, no matter how silly of a notion that was.  
  
Slowly, not wanting to wake him, Thorin stroked his free hand down Bilbo’s back, prompting a sleepy murmur and a small, strangely adorable, snort.

Even with the uncomfortable tingle in his arm and hand Thorin had never experienced a more perfect moment and he sent a silent, greedy plea to his Ancestors that there would be many more of them to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I've decided that Hobbits are now a thing in Thedas. Sorry not sorry! (And yes they can do magic, now you understand the canon, what canon? tag)


	15. Present

“And then the Necromancer?”  
  
“Yes.” Ori sighed. “And then the Necromancer. He wasn’t really a Necromancer though. But what he did was just as bad.”


	16. Chapter Eight - All That Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've played the game you'll know this quest and what is coming.

“Okay, so,” Nori gestured between Dís and Thorin and her brow furrowed. “Dwalin tells me your brother was blond and now you've both found yourself a blond sweetheart. Isn’t that a little strange?”

Dís was already sputtering into her ale but Thorin couldn’t really sum up the outrage.

“You might as well say that our brother was male and now we've both found ourselves one,” Thorin pointed out. “Also, don't be crude.”

“Me? Never!” Nori immediately ruined that by snorting quite loudly. “I'm Dori's sister so naturally I'm all sorts of refined. Thorin, drink more. I like you drinking. I think there would have been yelling if there had not been drinking.”  
  
“It’s not like I’m in the habit of yelling at you,” Thorin said and took a small sip of his own drink, the one he had simply because Nori and Dís had kept buying him drinks and then drinking them when he didn’t touch them.   
  
“I'll tell you why I like Víli if you tell me why you got those tattoos,” Dís offered, not backing down from the unimpressed look Nori gave her. “Stop that, I know you didn't get them as a child. But surely you can't have gotten them here in Kirkwall.”

“Shows what you know.”  
  
“Well, tell me,” Dís whined.

Nori shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “The Dalish often pass by not far from the city. I did them a solid and they did me one. And…” She lowered her voice and smirked at Dís. “I've got more than the one on my face.”

The interested look his sister gave Nori at that surely wasn’t necessary. “Really?”  
  
“I'll show you mine if you show me yours,” Nori purred, and Thorin sighed and took another sip of his drink. If he’d not been as good of a person as he was he’d just left them to it, but he didn’t feel comfortable with them getting drunk on their own, and they certainly seemed determined to do just that.

“But I don't have any tattoos,” Dís said, looking fairly heartbroken about it.

Nori snickered and pulled at the collar of her shirt with the hand not holding a tankard. She dragged it down until the tops of her breast showed, which also showed the start of the same dark brown lines as found on her face.

“Ooo,” Dís said, hands twitching as if about to reach out to touch and Thorin sighed again and took his sisters hands and placed them firmly back down on the table.

“Have I told you I like your sister more than you?” Nori asked Thorin.

“Yes.”

“I still do.”

“What's going on here?” Glóin rumbled as he pulled up a chair and sat down next to Nori.

“I'm offering to show Dís my breasts if she shows me hers,” Nori said while giving her lover a bright grin.

Glóin snorted. "Incorrigible."

“Glóin's got bigger breasts than I do,” Nori helpfully informed them, leaning back against the side of the dwarf in question.

"Have you actually gotten her drunk?" Glóin asked Thorin who held up both hands.  
  
“I’ve not done anything.”

"We're celebrating!” Dís nodded earnestly.

"What-"

"Don't ask," Thorin said.

"He _has_ to ask now," nodded Nori. "He’s a curious one."

"No love, that'd be you."

"We're celebrating Bilbo!" Dís filled in, raising her goblet as if to make a toast. It wobbled a bit and Thorin contemplated helping her put it back down again but decided not to. If she spilled Beorn would have to clean it up and that would serve him right for being a huge, looming, glaring, disapproving bastard who clearly didn’t approve of the change in Thorin’s and Bilbo’s relationship.   
  
The few times they’d been at the Hanged Man since things had changed the large man had practically been oozing displeasure. Even now he skulked, as best as someone his size could skulk, in the shadows, glaring at Thorin. Despite being short Bilbo was an adult and perfectly able to make up his own mind. Beorn had no right to-

"Bilbo does not actually appear to be here." Glóin glanced beneath the table. "Nope, not there either. So you’ve not gotten him drunk.”

"It's been five whole weeks of him putting up with my brother without calling the courtship off!" Giving up the wait for someone to make the toast with her Dís pulled the goblet back and took a healthy swig.

"And you agree that this needs to be celebrated?" Glóin asked Thorin, peering around Nori as the auburn haired Dwarf had decided to migrate into his lap.

Thorin shrugged. "I wasn't about to let them drink on their own. It's not safe."

"Pfft. Like Beorn would let anything happen,” Nori scoffed.

Thorin wisely refrained from commenting.

"Where is Bilbo then?" Glóin questioned as he absentmindedly started playing with Nori’s braid.

"Writing." Thorin knew he was probably scowling but he didn’t like it when Bilbo wrote. He didn’t know what Bilbo wrote, just that every now and again he’d settle at the desk in his clinic or the one in Thorin’s chambers and write page after page of something that he’d not allow anyone to read and which never failed to leave him in a bad mood. It was most likely related to something to do with the Wardens, or so Thorin assumed since discussions about them put much the same pinched look on his lover’s face. And Thorin especially didn’t like it when Bilbo stayed in his clinic. He still hadn’t agreed to move into the estate. Not in the room closest to the basement nor in Thorin’s. More often than not he still left when the hour was late, or before Thorin woke in the morning.  
  
Still, it was better than not seeing him at all, not having him at all, and Thorin tried to be patient. He had no more experience than Bilbo when it came to living with a lover, but just because he was impatient to have Bilbo share his life in all possible ways did that mean Bilbo was ready for the same. But they had time to sort such things out.

"And Vili?"

Dís sniffed. "He's being a bit of an arse. He's gotten it into his head that he should ask Father for permission to wed me and is now obsessing about what to say."

"Congratulations?"

"We'll see," Dís muttered and took a swig of her ale. “Might clobber him over the head first and then he’ll forget what he was going to say and probably that he even knows me and-“

"Tell her it's too soon," Thorin murmured to Glóin, because it was much too soon for his little sister to get married and thank the Stone Víli was being an arse about it.

"I-"

"D'ya want to get married?"

Everyone around the table stared at Nori who ignored everyone but Glóin, blinking up at him in the determined way that drunk people did when they pretended that they weren’t drunk.

"You sounded like you would just now,” Nori continued.

"He said ‘congratulations’ and sounded unsure," Thorin stated when Glóin didn’t reply. “I hardly think-“

"You're crap at listening to other people," Nori said with a scowl. "So I'm not listening to you. But _you_ ,” she added and looked back at Glóin. ”You talk.”

“You want to get married?” the redheaded Dwarf asked, looking rather stunned over the entire concept.

“Uh, I asked first.”

“You’ve never said-“ Glóin began before shaking his head and curling his arm a little tighter around Nori’s waist. “I don’t want to if you don’t want it to.”

“That is a cheatsy answer.” Nori poked a finger at Glóin’s chest and tapped him with it. “Because you'll still want to, if you want to. You'll just not do it because you’re better than that.”

“ _Cheatsy_?” Thorin asked, talking more to the ceiling than to anyone in the room.

Nori shushed him. “Grownups are talking now. Well, so do you,” she continued, tapping Glóin’s chest again.

“Very grownup of you,” Thorin agreed and Nori shushed him again, not looking away from her lover who shrugged helplessly.

“Aye, of course I want to marry you. I'd hardly have let you talk me into this in the first place if I didn’t want that would I’ve?”

A wide smile split Noris face and she nuzzled her cheek into Glóin's beard before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I don't know. You could be after my part of the treasure.”

“You're the only treasure I need.”

When the pair kissed Dís and Thorin both sighed, but in rather different ways.

"I hope Víli stops being an arse soon," Dís said a bit morosely. "Also, did you just get engaged? Hey," Dís slapped Nori’s shoulder. “Get your tongue out of his throat and answer the question. Well _that's_ rude," Dís huffed at the gesture Nori had flashed at her. "I'm definitely not going to show you my breasts now."

“Didn’t you hear, Glóin’s are bigger.” Thorin’s lips quirked at the annoyed look he received.   
  
“You are not funny,” Dís informed him haughtily, but her grumbled protests when Thorin put his arm around her shoulders were only for show and she happily burrowed in against his side.  
  
“I still miss Frerin,” Dís said softly. “Only, it’s not a big hole inside of me anymore. More like a sting. Is that bad?”  
  
“Of course it’s not bad,” Thorin promised, tugging lightly on a lock of Dís’ hair. “It’s just time. Like when we lost mother. Her memories still live within us, and so will our brother’s.”  
  
“Víli has also lost those he cares about, but he’s still-“ Dís bit her bottom lip. “He said that it’s all right to be happy because that’s what they would have wanted.”  
  
“I can’t argue with him there,” Thorin said. “But you’re both too young to get married.”  
  
“Oh, don’t even,” Dís said, knocking her head against Thorin’s shoulder. “We’re not any younger than Father and Mother were and you know it. And Father agrees. Víli is just being an arse, being nervous over nothing.”  
  
“Father just wants grandchildren,” Thorin huffed.  
  
“So do I,” Dís said sulkily. “Well, not grandchildren, but children.”  
  
Thorin grimaced, then winced as Dís’ elbow jammed him in the ribs. Considering that she couldn’t possibly have seen his face it was rather impressive.  
  
“You’ll love being an uncle, just don’t think of where they’ve come from if it bothers you that much.”  
  
Thorin shuddered slightly. “Thank you, I won’t.”  
  
“Although,” Dís mused. “If Nori and Glóin keep that up you might get a live presentation of how children are made.”  
  
Thankfully, Beorn came to pull them apart before that happened. Possibly the first worthwhile thing Thorin had seen the man do.

-

Thorin looked towards his father’s room as he carried a mostly asleep Dís to her room. Or perhaps more than mostly because she now appeared to be snoring quietly against his neck.   
  
He'd tried to be quiet opening the front door but since he'd ended up having a few ales himself he wasn't sure how he'd succeeded. Both he and Dís were surely too old to be glared at disapprovingly so he’d rather not wake their father if it could be avoided.

He got his sister on her bed, contemplated trying to get her under the covers but decided that it was hot enough in the room. Summer had long passed, but autumn in Kirkwall did not bring the cool winds that Thorin was used to. The Frostback Mountains had not gotten their name in vain, that was for sure, and in comparison, Kirkwall was balmy. The handsome cloak Thorin had bought in the Hightown market place was strictly speaking too hot for this kind of weather but Bilbo had complimented him on it, on how it made his eyes look bluer. Thorin had enjoyed the look in Bilbo’s eyes when he’d told him. So he wore the cloak.

Brushing a lock of hair away from Dís face Thorin leaned down and pressed his lips to her brow.   
  
“G’night,” he told her, smiling slightly at himself when he heard the slight slur in his voice. It had been a good night, even if he’d been doubtful when Dís and Nori had first dragged him out of the house.  
  
Humming softly beneath his breath Thorin went upstairs, loosening the laces on his clothes as he went. Opening his bedroom door Thorin froze in surprise. He wasn’t sure how long he spent staring at Bilbo curled up in on his bed, on top of the covers, but he probably would have stood there for even longer if Bilbo hadn’t made a soft sound and rolled onto his back. He was still fully dressed, even wearing his boots.   
  
A murmured word later and a softly glowing orb of light appeared in the room.  
  
“Thorin?”

"I did not mean to wake you," Thorin murmured, pulling his tunic over his head and draping it over the back of a chair.

“I-s this all right? The door was open.” Bilbo sat up and rubbed at his eyes. “I thought I’d wait for you, but I must have fallen asleep.”  
  
“The door is always open for you.” Pausing in the middle of removing his trousers Thorin tilted his head and smiled at Bilbo. “Nori is right. I always want you. Anything else is cheating.”

“What?” Bilbo yawned and blinked up at Thorin. “Either I’m more tired than I thought or you’re not quite making sense.”

Now naked Thorin took the few steps necessary to get him to the bed and then crawled on top of it, not stopping until he was braced over Bilbo. The blond made a small confused noise when Thorin kissed him, but clever hands came up to curl themselves in dark hair and Thorin realised that he was grinning into the kiss only when his cheeks started to ache. He interrupted Bilbo’s protest that Thorin tasted like ale with another kiss, this time one given to the tip of Bilbo’s nose.   
  
“Whatever happens,” he murmured against Bilbo’s skin, stopping to press a small kisses at the corner of Bilbo’s mouth. “I'd not want to be without you. Whatever happens, I love you.”

For a few moments Bilbo was silent. “I think it’s time for us to sleep.”

“I love you,” Thorin insisted.

“I love you too.”   
  
Thorin closed his eyes in pleasure as Bilbo stroked his hands down Thorin’s back and he went unresistingly to his side as Bilbo gently nudged him away. Propping himself up on his elbow Thorin watched with half-lidded eyes as Bilbo got up to undress.

“Why don’t you sleep here more often?”

“I- get nightmares,” Bilbo said without looking up from the laces of his boots which he was undoing. He was bent over and honey-coloured curls obscured Thorin’s view of his face. “It's one of the things about being a Grey Warden that you can't leave entirely behind. During the Blight I often dreamt about the Archdemon. It was- I wouldn’t want to disturb you with them.”  
  
“Oh,” Thorin said, biting his lip. “But I want to be disturbed?”  
  
Bilbo glanced up and swept a few stray curls away from his forehead. “Trust me, you don’t want to.”  
  
Thorin remained silent as Bilbo finished undressing and climbed onto the bed again.  
  
“I want whatever of yours that you want to share,” Thorin vowed as Bilbo settled against his side. “And like Nori said, probably some other things as well. But that’s okay, I’m happy with this.”  
  
“What _have_ you been doing tonight?”  
  
“Talking.”  
  
“And drinking I take it.” There was a small note of disapproval in Bilbo’s voice, but it was much to subtle for Thorin to pick up on. Instead the Dwarf snickered and rubbed his cheek against Bilbo’s hair.  
  
“I had to carry Dís home.”

“I see.”  
  
“And I think Nori and Glóin agreed to get married?”  
  
When Bilbo pulled away Thorin’s arm instinctively tightened around him, but he sternly told himself to stop that. Bilbo didn’t go far, only pulling back far enough that he could meet Thorin’s eyes.  
  
“This certainly seems to have been a very interesting night.”  
  
Thorin nodded and rubbed his thumb over the soft skin on Bilbo’s waist, enjoying that his hand found much more of a roundness than he’d done the first time Bilbo had been naked in his bed. Bilbo deciding to stop avoiding him had meant plenty of more opportunities for Thorin to present him with meals, and it was starting to have an effect. Although to be honest it was much more common for Bilbo to cook for Thorin than the other way around, but he did so in the kitchen in the estate and Thorin tried to buy all sorts of things that Bilbo might like to turn into food. Even vegetables. And on the days when Bilbo did not show up for lunch or dinner Thorin always went to Darktown with a basket loaded with food. More than enough for two so Bilbo could eat what he wished and still have plenty to give away if he wanted to.  
  
“I don’t like the idea of the two of you walking home alone after you’ve been drinking,” Bilbo said softly, splaying his hand over Thorin’s chest and gently running his fingers through the springy, dark hair covering it. “Especially if Dís has been drinking enough that she-“  
  
“She just fell asleep,” Thorin said with a small shrug. “She tried matching Nori for drinks and it did not work out so well. I wasn’t fool enough to try.”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”  
  
Bilbo hummed something beneath his breath and allowed Thorin to move them so Thorin was curled up behind Bilbo’s back. Hooking his chin over Bilbo’s shoulder Thorin took a deep breath and savoured the sweet smell from Bilbo’s hair.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
-  
  
The next morning Thorin woke up alone, and for a moment he thought he’d imagined finding Bilbo in his bed, but the slight Bilbo-shaped indent in the mattress next to his own body was a clue that he hadn’t. His pillow still smelt like Bilbo and Thorin forced himself not to be utterly ridiculous and sniff it like a dog. Instead he got up and pulled on a robe.   
  
Yawning Thorin went down to the kitchen, hoping to find both breakfast and his lover.  
  
He found both, and his sister.   
  
“I did not expect to find you up so early,” Thorin told Dís who was happily digging into a large breakfast of fried sausages and potatoes. “Nor did I think you’d have such an appetite.”  
  
“Bilbo is the best,” Dís beamed. “He found me bemoaning my fate into a cup of water and fixed me right up.  
  
“I’m not making a habit out of it,” Bilbo warned. “If you decide to drink that much you should suffer the consequences for it.”  
  
“But I looked so pathetic he made an exception,” Dís explained, batting her eyes at Bilbo who huffed and trotted across the kitchen to get a plate for Thorin. “And you brother, feeling well?”  
  
“I was not the one who tried to compete with Nori,” Thorin said drily. “I’m fine. A little tired, but no more. Thank you,” he added to Bilbo as he accepted the plate loaded with delicious smelling sausages and golden potatoes, and also a handful of vegetable of some sort.  
  
“Don’t even start,” Bilbo said when he caught Thorin side eyeing them. “And Dís, I told you that I’d only heal your head ache if you ate yours, so stop pushing them around your plate to make it look like you are.”

Dís made a face put speared one of the purple things onto her fork and took a bite. Then another. “Hey these aren’t too bad.”  
  
“The Gods have mercy,” Bilbo murmured and Thorin smiled and put the plate to the side.  
  
“Good morning,” he murmured, wrapping both his arms around Bilbo’s waist, leaning down for a kiss. He contemplated saying something about how the bed had felt too big without him, but decided not to. They were taking things slow. It was well enough if Bilbo decided to spend the night and not leave right away in the morning. He didn’t have to stay in the bed as well.

“Morning,” Bilbo echoed. “You seem to be in a much better mood than I found your sister in.”  
  
“ _She_ ,” Dís said and rolled her eyes. “Didn’t have her pretty blond waiting for her last night, nor was he around to make her breakfast in the morning. Too busy being an idiot I’m guessing.”  
  
She didn’t sound to upset though, so Thorin didn’t bring up the subject of Víli’s worries about gaining Thráin’s approval. It was indeed rather moronic considering that Thráin had not only allowed Víli to share Dís’ room ever since they moved into the estate, he also still dropped hints every so often about how there was still time to make the library into a nursery.

“Is father up?” Thorin asked instead, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead and then releasing him to get his plate. “I hope I did not wake him last night when we came home.”  
  
“He’s up but I didn’t actually see him.” Dís shrugged. “I knocked on his door but his bed was already made. I’ve not seen a note so he’s probably back before noon. Considering he went to bed without seeing us home I’m guessing he thought it likely we’d not be up before then anyway.”

“We have plenty of paper to leave notes,” Thorin grumbled. They did. Both Bilbo and Ori left piles of the stuff around, even if Ori favoured her bound notebooks over loose sheets. “And you both know how to write, but you’d think not considering-“  
  
Bilbo snorted and prodded Thorin in the side with his elbow. “Care to take a guess how I feel about you too being out by yourselves, drunk?”  
  
“I can take care of myself,” Thorin said and demonstratively speared a piece of sausage on his fork. No one needed to worry about him. That was not the same thing.  
  
Both Dís and Bilbo snorted and Thorin tried to not take it personally.   
  
“Did you see Father?” he asked Bilbo instead, but Bilbo shook his head.  
  
“No one was up when I woke. He must have gone out when I was in the library.”  
  
“We should make sure to have dinner together tonight,” Dís said as she chewed on her last purple vegetable. Thorin tried one of his. It was surprisingly sweet, but he wasn’t sure he liked it and made sure to give Bilbo a longsuffering look, getting a similar look back in return.  
  
“Bilbo, you’re joining us I hope? I think Víli might come as well. I’ve given him plenty of time to stop being stupid by now. And maybe Ori, Nori and Glóin and Dori and Dwalin can come as well.”

“If I’m not needed in the clinic I’ll be happy to come,” Bilbo said and smiled warmly at Dís. Thorin most definitely did not push his fork into the sausage with more than necessary force. And he was definitely not annoyed that he hadn’t been the one to ask. Bilbo had spent the night in his bed and Dís was as good as betrothed. Being jealous would have been immensely silly.

“Great!” Dís grabbed her plate and went to wash it, grabbing the pots and pans Bilbo had used to prepare the food with as well.  
  
“I can-“ Bilbo started to protest but Dís shook her head.  
  
“You cook, someone else cleans. And Thorin seems to be busy eating.”  
  
“I’ve just woken up,” Thorin protested.  
  
“See, now he feels bad about not helping,” Dís confided to Bilbo in a stage whisper. “Now you can guilt him into doing something nice for you later.”  
  
A small frown touched Bilbo’s forehead. “I’d prefer not to guilt anyone into doing anything,” he said a little stiffly.

Dís looked at him in surprise. “I was just making a joke.”  
  
The frown melted into contriteness and Bilbo shrank into himself a little. “Yes, I know. I’m- I’m sorry. I should-”  
  
Thorin braced himself.  
  
“-go.”  
  
“Please don’t,” Dís said, casting an apologetic look at Thorin. “I didn’t mean.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Bilbo said, smile less bright than before. “I do need to leave.”  
  
“You’ll come for dinner?” Thorin said, aiming for casual, dreading that he’d sound too hopeful, and wincing when he realised he landed more towards pleading.  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo nodded. “If nothing urgent requires my attention.”  
  
“Good,” Dís said, going back to washing the dishes.  
  
“I’ll see you later then,” Thorin said, looking up at Bilbo who had moved to the doorway.  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo promised. “I’ll- if I’m not here in time, would you consider stopping by the clinic? I might be busy, but sometimes I just end up… distracted.”  
  
Being asked to come and collect Bilbo because of his absentmindedness should probably not have made a pleased glow spread in Thorin’s chest but it did.  
  
“Of course,” Thorin promised. “And if you’re busy I can come back again later, with dinner?”  
  
“Or you can stop by whenever you want,” Dís said over her shoulder. “Which I’m sure my brother has told you, but it can’t be said enough. Please just tell Father that you’ll move in, he’s started talking about having a nursery again, and if your room is empty he might turn his sights there.”  
  
“But-“ Thorin began to say, but cutting himself off before he proclaimed that if Bilbo should stay in their house then surely he would stay in Thorin’s room. If Bilbo was worried about nightmares, then perhaps he would prefer having his own room. “Never mind.”  
  
Dís gave him a knowing look and Thorin ignored her in favour of a crispy wedge of potato.  
  
“Thank you, but I can’t,” Bilbo said, as he usually did when there was talk about him moving in. Dís, having heard it before, sighed dramatically.   
  
“Who is going to save me now?”  
  
“We’ve got more than one empty room anyway,” Thorin informed his sister.  
  
“But a nursery is such a waste of space,” Dís complained. “Why would you want to have your children in another room?”  
  
Bilbo cleared his throat. “I’ll see you both later then,” he said, smiling at Dís and then Thorin before slipping out the door.  
  
“You two would have pretty babies,” Dís said to Thorin who snorted.  
  
“I’m sure that if you and Víli have little ones they will be perfectly fine. Better even since they will actually exist.”  
  
Dís snickered. “If magic can cure the aftermath of a night of drinking then surely it should be easy to have it help make babies. People manage babies all the time on their own, but I’ve never heard of anything else managing to cure that type of headache and queasiness.”  
  
“Have you been talking to Father about this?” Thorin asked drily. “He’s expressed similar views.”  
  
“Imagine how grumpy they’d be if they’re like you though,” Dís mused. “I hear they’re plenty grumpy anyway from time to time.”  
  
With a sigh Thorin let his sister prattle on about magical babies and instead ate another one of the purple things. Bilbo wasn’t around to see it, but it was the thought that counted.

-  


Noon came and went and when the day started to go towards evening without Thráin having shown up at the estate both Thorin and Dís started to become a little worried.   
  
“If something has happened in Darktown Nori will regret ever bringing him there,” Thorin said darkly as he paced in front of the fireplace in the front hall.  
  
“Nori is not responsible for what Father does,” Dís said distractedly as she peered out the window.  
  
“If she hadn’t-“  
  
“He would still have gone on his own sooner or later anyway.” Dís let the curtain drop back into place and turned to look at Thorin. “Guess where we’ve inherited our stubbornness from?”  
  
-  
  
Close to dinner time, Thráin still hadn’t come home. Bilbo wasn’t to be seen either and Thorin grabbed his cloak and told Dís he’d go look for their father in Darktown. He’d stop by Bilbo on the way and tell him.  
  
“When the others come over, will you please ask Nori to see if she can help?” Thorin asked. “Maybe she knows someone who’s seen anything.”  
  
Dís nodded and leaned back into Víli’s arms. “I will.”  
  
“I can come with you now,” Víli offered and Thorin hesitated.  
  
“Perhaps you can go to Lowtown and have a look around instead?”  
  
“Of course,” Víli agreed and kissed Dís’ cheek. “I’m sorry, love. I feel this is my fault for acting so silly and not wanting to talk to him about us. It’s like I wished him away.”  
  
“Well, wish him back then,” Dís said and gently smacked her hand on Víli’s arm. But despite their easy tone Thorin could see the worried look in both his sister’s and Víli’s eyes.  
  
-  
  
“He’s missing?”  
  
Thorin nodded grimly. “It would seem so. And I’ve not actually seen him since yesterday morning. I just assumed he was home last night when Dís and I got home. I’m going to go look for him now.”  
  
“I’ll help,” Bilbo said immediately. “I know the people down here better than you so I can ask around, see if anyone’s seen him.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thorin said gratefully. “I’m sorry about dinner, but-“  
  
“No, no,” Bilbo protested. “Of course your father is more important. Of course. Should we meet back at the house or? I know you’re worried, but I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be in Darktown in the middle of the night, so even if you won’t find him right away…”  
  
“There’s still hours to go yet,” Thorin said. “If he’s here I’ll find him.”  
  
-  
  
Thorin didn’t find him. And the people Bilbo asked hadn’t seen him in the last few days, but they promised to keep an eye out. When they got back to the estate it was clear that Nori and Víli hadn’t had any better luck either. No one at the Hanged Man had seen him all day, and neither had anyone else Víli asked. Nori’s contacts said the same.  
  
-  
  
“You should go to the guards,” Dori said, stroking Dís’ arm comfortingly.   
  
“They’re not going to wake everyone up in the middle of the night just because we ask them,” Nori pointed out. “Most of the guards are off duty now. Might as well go tomorrow morning.”  
  
“She’s right,” Dwalin said when it looked like Dís was about to protest and Nori glared at him.  
  
“Of course I’m right. Like I wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.”  
  
They were all gathered in the kitchen in the estate, all nine of them clustered around the table with mostly uneaten food in front of them. Bilbo had looked guilty when he’d realised that he was the only one eating with anything like his normal appetite and the look at managed to bring the hint of a smile to both Thorin’ and Nori’s faces.  
  
“If you’re going to fight, do it outside,” Dori said curtly. “And you better stick to shouting at each other.”  
  
“And cause a scene?” Nori opened her eyes wide in mock-outrage. “I’d _never_.”  
  
“Don’t try and pick a fight with me either,” Dori sniffed. “If you want a distraction find something more worthwhile to do. Like the dishes. Don’t fight with Dwalin because he happens to agree with you for once.”  
  
“I’m going out to look for Thráin again then,” Nori said tersely and got up from the table.   
  
“Do you want company?” Glóin asked.  
  
“You’ll not be-“  
  
“Do you _want_ company?” he repeated and Nori faltered for a moment. She didn’t reply and instead continued out the door, but Glóin pushed away from the table anyway and followed her out into the hallway.  
  
“If she lets him catch up, that’s a yes,” Ori said quietly, playing with the foot of her goblet.

Dwalin snorted and opened his mouth, only to shut it again after a pointed look from Dori.

“Will you all stay here tonight?” Dís asked. “I’d, like it. If you stayed.”

“Tomorrow morning you can go to the guards.”  
  
-

The guards were extraordinarily unhelpful until Thorin gave them some coin. Then they were marginally more pleasant, but they didn’t have any better luck at finding his father. And the more hours passed, the more Thorin’s worry grew. When one of the guards suggested that perhaps he left voluntarily, maybe because of a sweetheart, Thorin almost hit him.  
  
“I don’t trust them to actually have looked for him,” Thorin said darkly to Dís and Dwalin. “They might just have taken the coin and walked into the nearest tavern.”  
  
They were standing outside the guard barracks, looking out over Hightown’s market place.  
  
“We should get that guard captain we met when we got to Kirkwall,” Dís suggested. “He seemed a reasonable sort.”  
  
“I’ll find him,” Dwalin said gruffly, patting them both on a shoulder before walking away.  
  
“You can’t just walk into the barracks!” Dís called after him, but Dwalin merely raised a hand and waved it dismissively

Thorin sighed and leaned back against the wall of the building. Thráin had been gone for over a full day now, perhaps closer to two depending on when exactly he’d left the house the day before. No one had seen him. Thorin couldn’t understand how it was even possible. His father could not turn himself invisible like Bilbo could, if he’d gone anywhere in Kirkwall then surely someone would have seen him. There were guards to the entrances and exits to Lowtown and Darktown, and the Alienage, but no one had seen him. And even if he’d used their basement passage to get into Darktown then someone must have seen him. In Darktown someone was always watching, and Nori knew most of them. No one had seen a thing. Not a damned thing.  
  
Thorin sighed again and reached out an arm to pull Dís closer. “Don’t worry.”  
  
“Hah,” Dís scoffed, but she did curl her arm around Thorin’s waist, fisting her hand in his cloak.  
  
“We’ll find Father, I promise.”  
  
“Don’t promise things like that,” Dís berated him. “We don’t know what’s happened. You shouldn’t promise things you don’t know if you can keep.”  
  
“No, I shouldn’t,” Thorin agreed. “But we’ll find him. I know we will.”

“He’d not leave without telling us why,” Dís murmured. “He wouldn’t.”  
  
“No, he wouldn’t,” Thorin said, clenching his jaw.  
  
-  
  
It had been almost a year since they first arrived to Kirkwall, but guard captain Ceorl looked much the same as he’d done that day, he even looked as tense as he’d done even though the Blight was no longer driving people to seek shelter in his city.

“Remember us, Captain Ceorl?” Thorin asked and the man nodded down at him.  
  
“Yes, master dwarf. You have done well for yourselves here in Kirkwall. I’ve heard the stories.”  
  
Thorin gritted his teeth and reminded himself to stuff Nori into a barrel of salted fish at some point in time when she wasn’t out looking for his father.  
  
“The stories are greatly exaggerated,” Thorin said. “Captain Ceorl, do you remember our father as well?”  
  
“He’s missing,” Dís interjected. “He never came home yesterday, and we don’t even know if he spent the night in his bed or if he’s been missing since the morning of the day before yesterday.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the captain said. “Have you received a ransom note?”  
  
“Ransom?” Dís echoed.  
  
“It’s known that you are wealthy.” The captain shrugged. “And I assume you’d be willing to pay to get your father back unharmed?”  
  
“We’ve not received any ransom note,” Thorin said tightly. “Are you suggesting that we wait for one?”  
  
“It’s not unusual when someone from Hightown goes missing. That or they just wander home in a days after having spent a few days at the Blooming Rose.”  
  
“My father is not visiting a brothel,” Thorin exclaimed. “If he would have felt so inclined he would damned well have left a note. Will you help us look for him or won’t you.”  
  
“We would pay you” Dís offered.  
  
“If you find him,” Thorin added darkly.  
  
The captain sighed. “Did your father have any enemies?”  
  
“No,” Dís said, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine that he had.”  
  
“Shame,” Captain Ceorl murmured. “That would have been convenient. I’ll see what I can do. When is the last time anyone saw him?”  
  
“He left our home yesterday morning, after breakfast.”  
  
“To do what?”  
  
“He said he was going to run some errands,” Thorin explained. “We don’t usually interrogate our father before he is allowed to leave the house.” But Thorin was definitely going to make a habit out of it after this.

“Could he have left the city?” The captain looked around and when he next spoke he had lowered his voice. “We’ve had some… difficulty out on the Wounded Coast for the last few weeks. An entire guard patrol has gone missing. No trace.”  
  
“No.” Dís shook her head. “He would have told us if he planned to leave the city. And I can’t even imagine what reason he would have to do so.”  
  
“A father doesn’t tell his children everything.”  
  
“He doesn’t leave them either.” Thorin glared up at the man, and Ceorl sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
“I guess not. But if I’m to find him I need something more to go on. I can’t turn the city upside down in search of one person. This is a big city. People disappear all the time. Sometimes voluntarily. Sometimes they turn up after a while. And sometimes they can’t be found.”  
  
“You will find our father,” Thorin commanded.  
  
“I promise I will try.”  
  
-  
  
Nori let the front door bang shut behind her and startled by the sudden noise Thorin, Dís and Víli turned their gazes from the fire.   
  
“Turns out Thráin isn’t the only one to go missing lately.”  
  
“What?” Dís asked. “More people are missing?”  
  
Nori nodded and shrugged off her coat, tossing it carelessly towards the closest table.  
  
“People from Darktown, and Lowtown. Not that it’s unusual that people go missing, but it’s more than usual. Thráin seems to be the first one to go missing from Hightown, and I’m not sure there’s a connection but I’ll make sure it’s looked into.”  
  
“Could it be-“ Dís hesitated for a moment. “Slavers?”  
  
“It’s certainly not impossible,” Nori sighed. “For the people missing from Darktown and Lowtown at least. But I don’t see why any slavers would nab your da. The way he’s usually dressed is a good sign that it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. And he’s a Dwarf. Taking a poor human or Elf is one thing, but an obviously well-off Dwarf? Don’t see that happening  
  
“It’s more probably that it’s like the guard suggested and he’d be taken for a ransom. But then you would have gotten the demand by now. No use in waiting around for something like that. Is there food?”

“I’ll get you some,” Dís offered. “We’ve not have dinner actually. Thorin do you want some-“  
  
“No thank you.”  
  
“I’ll help,” Víli said, getting to his feet and helping Dís up as well.  
  
“People always go missing in Darktown,” Nori said as she joined Thorin in front of the fire. “In Lowtown too. Even in Hightown.”  
  
“You said no one else was missing from Hightown.”  
  
“Well no one who wouldn’t usually go missing.” Nori grabbed a poker and jammed it into the burning logs. Sparks flared.   
  
“Spoilt, bored children who think they are all grown up go missing in Hightown in attempts to defy their parents. Nobles looking for a thrill. Stupid people. Your father is neither of those things.”

“But you don’t think slavers would take him.”  
  
“Only if they’re stupid.” Nori shrugged. “And there’s plenty of stupid people. So I don’t know. Hopefully I will know more tomorrow.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thorin sighed. “For your help.”  
  
“I like Thráin,” Nori said, as if that explained everything and maybe it did. “We’ll find him.” She was silent for a few moments. “I was afraid I’d come here and find an empty house. I’m glad I didn’t. It’s not safe for you to spend the nights looking for him. Either of you. And you need sleep.”  
  
“And you don’t?”  
  
Nori nudged her shoulder against Thorin’s. “Sleep is for the weak.”  
  
“Funny.”  
  
“Just trying to keep your spirits up.” Putting the poker aside Nori placed her hand over Thorin’s. “We’ll find him. I promise.”  
  
“I said the same thing to Dís earlier today,” Thorin said, not looking away from the fire.   
  
“Then you know I’m telling the truth.”  
  
“Perish the thought,” Thorin said, the corner of his mouth quirking when Nori bumped their shoulders together again, a fair bit harder this time.  
  
“We’ll find him.”  
  
-  
  
Exhausted Thorin let the door fall shut behind him. Another day with even finding someone who had at least seen his father.  
  
“Thorin?” Dís called from the sitting room.   
  
“It’s me,” Thorin called back. “Only me,” he added quietly to the empty room.  
  
“We’re in the sitting room!”  
  
“I’m-“  
  
When the door slammed open Thorin whirled around in surprised.  
  
“Nori, stop abusing our do-“  
  
“I think I know where your father is.”  
  
Thorin’s eyes widened in surprise, and hope, but Nori shook her head. “It’s not good news, it’s so far from being good news I-“  
  
“What’s going on?” Dís asked as she and Víli walked out into the hall. “Nori?”  
  
“Where’s father?” Thorin growled.  
  
“You’ve found father?”  
  
“I almost I hope I haven’t,” Nori said grimly. “Bilbo isn’t here is he? Damn,” she added when Dís shook her head. “I’ve sent a messenger to Darktown, but I hoped he’d be here with you.”  
  
“Where is our father?” Thorin demanded.

"Is he hurt?" Dís bit her lip. “Is that why you want Bilbo?”  
  
"Where _is_ he?” Thorin repeated.   
  
“In a manor house here in Hightown,” Nori said. “And I don’t know if he’s hurt. We’ll leave as soon as Bilbo arrives.”  
  
"What's going on?" Víli slung his arm over Dís’ shoulders. “Why do you look like you’ve been chased by a pack of Deepstalkers?”  
  
"Bilbo?” Thorin shook his head. “Bilbo can't be seen wandering around Hightown."  
  
"Then I hope he won't _let_ himself be seen,” Nori said tightly. “But we'll need him. If the information I have is right your father is being held captive by a Mage. And an unpleasant Mage at that. And powerful. We'll need Bilbo."  
  
"We could go to the guards-"  
  
"They are not going to break into an estate in Hightown simply because I tell them to. And even if they did, I think the Mage would have the better of them. It’s either Bilbo or the Templars. And since I don’t know what’s happened… I rather not free your Father just to have the Templars kill him.”  
  
“Kill him?” Dís looked horrified. “Why would they kill him?”  
  
“How can there be a Mage living in Hightown?” Thorin demanded. “There’s guards and Templars all ov-”  
  
"He's Tevinter," Nori said shortly. "Money and magic. And the former being very convenient to have when you try and hide the latter. And I don’t _know_ what’s happened, which is why I don’t want any Templars around. You just need to say the word magic to make Denethor grab for his sword."  
  
“There’s a _Tevinter_ _Mage_ in Kirkwall and the Knight-Commander didn't know?" Thorin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  
  
"He pretended to be from Antiva. And obviously did not tell anyone that he was a mage. Your father has been socialising with him. Feeding the poor together."  
  
"What?" Dís breathed.

"I should have known," Nori growled. "I thought he was just a harmless do-gooder. I've _met_ him! And now it looks like he's a damned blood Mage."

A blood Mage. "Bilbo is a healer,” Thorin protested. “You can’t-“

"I've seen him fight,” Nori said shortly. “He's good at it. And-“ her face blanked of all expression. “We might need a healer too."

"Tell us what you know,” Víli said and pulled Dís into his arms. “Please.”

"I’m not- there’re rumours.” Nori shook her head. “I’m not even certain he is a Mage, blood Mage or otherwise. But he is from Tevinter. And a lot more people seem to walk into his house compared to the number who walk out of it."

"And no one _noticed_?" Thorin took a step forwards and grabbed Nori’s shoulder. “How could no one not notice?”

"No one put the pieces if the puzzle together." She shrugged off Thorin’s hand and started to pace in front of the door. “I told you. People go missing all the time. And there are many reasons why someone goes missing which doesn't even involve their being a crime committed. Some people, people who had been working for him, even told their families that they were leaving and not to look for them. Which is why I think he’s a Blood Mage.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Víli said, looking between Nori and Dís.  
  
“Blood Mages can control your will,” Nori explained. “Make you do things. Their families- they knew something wasn’t right but they didn’t know what.”  
  
“What-“ Thorin began but they were interrupted by the sound of someone rushing up the steps leading from the basement. 

"Bilbo!" Nori shouted.

"I'm here!” The voice was slightly muffled but became clearer after they heard a door being opened. “I'm here."

"Then we leave,” Nori said grimly as Bilbo rushed into the hall. He was breathing hard, and Thorin figured he must have run the whole way from the clinic.  
  
“Nori,” Bilbo said between huge gulps of air. “Your note? By all the Gods, what is going on?”  
  
“I’ll explain on the way.” Nori glanced at Víli. “You should stay here. If we don’t come back-“  
  
“I can’t let you go on your own,” Víli protested.   
  
“These two are Mages,” Nori said and pointed at Dís and Bilbo. “Thorin and I can handle ourselves if there’s a fight. You? You stay here and tell Glóin and the others what’s happened if we don’t come back.”  
  
“I can fight-“  
  
“We don’t have time for this.”  
  
“Víli please,” Dís asked. “Please?”  
  
After a moment he nodded. “But tell me where you’re going.”  
  
“The Mage is calling himself Artano. It’s the house next to the bakery up on-“  
  
“On main street.” Víli nodded. “I like that bakery.”  
  
“You’ll stay here?” When he nodded Nori inclined her head. “Good. If we’re not back before midnight, something has definitely gone wrong. And you should get the Templars.”  
  
“Templars, no,” Bilbo protested and Nori turned to give him a stern look.  
  
“Who else are going to be able to handle a blood mage,” she asked. “If you can’t?”  
  
“It won’t be necessary to involve the Templars,” Bilbo said.  
  
“Well I fucking hope so,” Nori muttered. “Thorin, get your sword. Let’s go.”

The back door to the house was locked, but it proved little of a concern as Nori picked it open within seconds.  
  
As they entered the house Bilbo shuddered. 

"He'll know we're here. There's a spell weaved around this room. A curse really. But I can break it. But he'll know. But it's worse. The Fade. It's- it's-"

"Broken," Dís breathed. "I've never felt anything like this."

"Not quite broken but close," Bilbo agreed, jaw tight. "He might have been summoning Demons and if he has, that's not good."

"You don't say," Nori murmured. “Why didn’t you feel anything outside? Or the Templars, they should have sensed something?”  
  
“It was the spell. It concealed it, contained it. Unless I break it it won’t allow us to leave the room.” Bilbo paused. “When I break it, you should leave. If he's possessed, if there's an abomination here, it's not going to be-"

"Again with the obvious," Nori shook her head. "We know it’s not going to be a walk in the park. Get rid of the spell so we can continue."

"You'll remember what we talked about?” Bilbo asked Dís. “Concerning demons?”

Dís nodded. 

"The Gods help us then." Bilbo closed his eyes and his hands sketched an invisible pattern in the air. Dís' eyes widened so either she should see something that Thorin couldn't or she could perhaps feel something. 

As Bilbo lowered his hands Thorin imagined that he felt the barest echoes of something but that was probably only his imagination. 

"Basement," Bilbo said firmly, his expression grim. "I feel it even clearer now. He's- I don’t know what he’s doing. But it's making my skin crawl."

"Is Father-?"

"I don't know.” Bilbo reached out and squeezed Dís’ hand. “I don’t know.”         

  
-  


What they found in the basement was  nothing like they could have expected. 

Bilbo went down the stairs first, much to Thorin’s displeasure but if there was a Mage magic would be more useful as a first strike than a blade. A wooden door led into a room filled with beds, beds filled with sleeping people. It was an odd sight to say the least, even if one would have overlooked how it wasn’t torches or candles that illuminated the room. Instead the light came from the sleeping people.

“What _is_ this?” Dís whispered.  
  
“Do you see Thráin,” Nori said tersely.   
  
“We can’t leave the other ones regardless Bilbo protested.  
  
"Oh, how lovely, more guests."  
  
Nori swore and threw a knife towards the man with the long red hair who had appeared in a doorway leading into another room. Before the knife could hit its target all the light in the room disappeared and Thorin reached out for Dís.

With a sharp command from Bilbo brightly glowing orbs flashed into existence, illuminating the gloom and casting long shadows on the walls.  
  
“I hope you will stay a while,” the man said, but he was no longer standing in the doorway. Thorin spun around, but he couldn’t see him.  
  
“Close your eyes,” Bilbo said, raising his hands which had begun to glow with a bright golden light.  
  
“Oh, yes.” The man’s voices seemed to come from all corners of the room. “Please do.”  
  
As the redhead said something in the language Thorin vaguely recognised as Tevinter Bilbo’s orbs blinked out, and the room was again plunged into darkness.  
  
-

“You, brother, are an arse.”   
  
Frerin snorted and ducked away from Thorin’s hand as it tried to smack the back of his head.  
  
“Then what does that make you?”  
  
“You’re not making sense,” Thorin told the blond, trying to sound stern but he couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Father, say that he’s not making sense.”  
  
“That he’s not making sense,” Thráin repeated dutifully, not looking up from the book he was reading.  
  
“Father,” Thorin complained.  
  
“Thráin, darling, be nice to your oldest son,” Thorin’s mother scolded, pulling slightly on Thráin’s braids as she walked by.  
  
“Mother,” Frerin protested.

“Thorin?”  
  
“Yes, mother?” Thorin asked smugly.   
  
“You be nice to your only brother.”  
  
The smug smile slipped away.  
  
“Does that mean I don’t have to be nice to them,” Dís mused. “Seeing as I’ve got two brothers so I can’t be nice to my only brother.”  
  
Thorin frowned. _Only brother._ Something stirred in the back of his mind. And then something hit the back of his head.  
  
“Hey,” Thorin complained, ducking to avoid the next ball of yarn Frerin threw at him.  
  
“Thinking about your sweetheart?” Frerin asked with a grin. “You do nothing else these days I swear. You’re getting old and boring. Boring I say! And Dís can’t talk about anything other than Víli and the children. It’s-“  
  
“Children?” Thorin blinked., then smiled. Of course he knew that she and Víli had children. He had just been… confused  
  
“If he’s forgotten his nephews, does that make me your favourite brother?” Frerin asked their sister who rolled her eyes.   
  
“I’ve not forgotten the last time you watched them for me. And don’t think I’ll forget any time soon.”  
  
“The ink washed off!”  
  
“After three days!”  
  
“Thorin?”

"Yes, my love?" Thorin turned and smiled at Bilbo, frowning when he saw the sad look on his lover’s face. 

"We can't stay,” Bilbo said and reached out to take Thorin’s hand. “Come with me?”  
  
“Come with you where?” Thorin asked, but allowed Bilbo to lead him out of the sitting room in the estate and down into the basement. Basement. Thorin frowned. Why did he have a bad feeling about going down the stairs? Walking down the stairs and seeing- no. 

"Where are we going?” Thorin asked instead.  
  
“We are-“ Bilbo began, but he was interrupted by a very familiar voice.

"Darling?"   
  
Surprised Thorin turned his head to find another Bilbo. "Darling, come here,” this new Bilbo said. “That's not me."

"Bilbo?" Thorin looked between the two. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Come here,” the second one said, holding out his hand and Thorin took a step towards him but was halted by the grip the first one still had on his left hand.  
  
“Dís told you about her dreams,” he said.  
  
“Mostly about her nightmares,” Thorin said confusedly. “But yes. Sometimes about her dreams too.”

“Thorin don’t listen to him. It’s not me!”  
  
“Look up,” the first one said, nodding up towards the ceiling. 

Thorin raised his gaze, excepting to find nothing but stone and bricks but instead his eyes widened in shock. A vast sky stretched above them, visible through gaps and cracks in what should have been a solid ceiling. It wasn’t the blue sky that Thorin had grown used to, instead it was a sickly green colour.   
  
“Has she told you about the Black City?”   
  
Thorin eyes tracked the path that Bilbo’s finger pointed out and the Dwarf gasped in surprise. High up above them he could see the dark shape of a city hanging in the sky. It seemed to be made out of void and shadows, and Thorin tore his gaze away and shuddered. The followers of the Chantry believed that their Maker used to live there. Godforsaken admittedly seemed to be a good- A small thumb stroking his knuckles brought his attention back to Bilbo.

"This is a dream, Thorin. You're in the Fade."

Thorin felt entirely lost. "But I don't dream. Dwarves don’t dream.”

"Yes. He's lying. Thorin, you can't believe him.” The other Bilbo walked up to stand beside them and the Bilbo holding Thorin’s hand muttered something beneath his breath that made a circle of light spring up around them, separating them from this second Bilbo.   
  
“Please, don’t believe him.” Tears was streaming down Bilbo’s cheeks and Thorin took a step towards him, letting go of Bilbo’s hand to press both of his towards the wall of light.

“Don’t cry.”  
  
“You can't leave me,” Bilbo sobbed and Thorin’s heart ached. 

"It's not me," said the Bilbo inside the circle.  

"Don't leave. Don't leave me, Thorin."

"I can't."

"It's not me."

Thorin turned to look at him. “But you, he, I can’t stand to see you cry.”  
  
“Brother?” Thorin snapped his head back as he heard Frerin’s voice. His brother and sister, mother and father, had come up to stand next to Bilbo. “Brother, please don't go."

"Thorin they're not real either. Your brother..." Bilbo hesitated. "You know he's dead. Your mother is too."

Yes. Frerin had died. The Darkspawn had killed him. Tharkûn had given him to the Stone. Thorin looked to his mother who had tears in her eyes but held her head high and proud.  
  
“Thorin, stop this nonsense now. Can’t you see you’re upsetting your family.”

"We need to go,” Bilbo said and reached up to touch his hand to Thorin’s jaw, gently turning his head to face him. “You’re the last one I found. The others are waiting for us. The Mage who took your father-“  
  
“He, did this?” Thorin asked, looking down into familiar hazel eyes. “How?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Bilbo said. “But I think he’s been summoning demons.”  
  
“Clever boy,” a voice purred and the world tilted and Thorin’s hand clenched around Bilbo’s, probably squeezing too hard but he couldn’t help it. Between one moment and the next the setting around them had changed from the estate’s basement to a lush banquet hall.  
  
“Thorin!” Dís called, crashing into his side with enough force to knock him back a step. Even as he curled his arms around her Thorin looked up, and found the Black City still hovering silently above them in the distance.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
“This is your sister,” Bilbo said distractedly. “Everyone, come closer. Nori, hurry up,” he added when the redhead wouldn’t stop staring up at the sky with a disgruntled expression on her face.  
  
“I hate this so much,” Nori said with a shudder as she walked close enough that her coat brushed Bilbo’s shirt. “So very incredibly much. Bilbo, how can you stand doing this every night? Dís how can you?”

  
With a softly spoken command a new circle of light flashed into existence around the four of them.  
  
“There’s a demon here with us,” Bilbo explained, his words rushed but assured. “Based on the dreams it gave us I would say it’s a Desire Demon. It won’t let us go if-“  
  
“Don’t presume to think that you know what I will do.”  
  
They turned their heads towards the speaker and Thorin resisted the urge to cover Dís’ eyes. The Demon; because it could hardly be anything else, held the shape of a strikingly beautiful woman, naked except for a belt of golden coins around her waist and human looking except for the curved horns growing from its hairless head, and for the dark, shimmering purple of its eyes.

“Why is he summoning you?” Bilbo demanded. “Have he promised you-“  
  
The Demon laughed and it sounded like golden pearls falling on marble but yet it was somehow terrible.

"Oh he's not summoning us. But what he's doing certainly merits watching. Let me go without a fight and I will tell you why." It cocked one hip and the air around it shimmered and momentarily hid it from their view. When it became visible again Thorin heard Dís draw after breath.  
  
“I will even say please,” the Demon said with Thorin’s voice, and a smile sparkling in the still purple eyes.  
  
“Change out of that form,” Bilbo said coldly. “Or you won’t like the results.”  
  
“But you do enjoy this form,” the Demon said, running a hand down its, Thorin’s, naked chest.  
  
“I would still destroy you in it,” Bilbo said, and Thorin, Nori and Dís all flinched as lightning struck the ground next to where the demon was standing. The lightening did not disappear into the wooden floor beneath them and instead formed a sparkling cage around the creature.  
  
“Fine,” the Demon huffed and Thorin had to raise a hand to shield his eyes as a pulse of light suddenly painted the world white.

“Better?” the Demon asked, now in a third shape of a male Elf. “I like the first form better but I fear it’s rather wasted on the four of you.”  
  
"What will you do if I let you go?" Bilbo asked and Nori’s jaw dropped open.  
  
“Let it go? It’s a _demon_ , Bilbo.”

"We don’t have time for this, Nori,” Bilbo said sharply. “What will you do,” he repeated to the Demon.   
  
“Watch, and wait," it purred. "You know this. It is what our kind do. Your world is much to enticing for us to give up. As are you. You are _delicious_."

"Tell me what I need to know, and I promise I will let you go."

“Bilbo!” Nori protested. Thorin could not claim to be comfortable with this suggestion either, but he kept his mouth shut. He trusted Bilbo to know what was the best course of action. 

The Demon swept its long plum-coloured hair over one shoulder and smiled with teeth that managed to look normal and too sharp at the same time.   
  
"The Mage, he’s special. He is _experimenting_. He wants to make himself a Dreamer, and has almost succeeded, but he discovered something else along the way."  
  
“What?” Bilbo prompted.  
  
“You don’t have time for a long explanation,” the Demon smiled. “But let’s just say that there are interesting truths to discover when you speak to a soul about to make the transit from your world and to whatever it is that lies beyond the Fade.”  
  
“Something beyond the Fade?” Dís asked and Bilbo pulled her behind him when the Demon turned its gaze towards her.  
  
“Those of you who dream pass by here again after your death,” the Demon explained. “But you do not stop. Not usually at least. Not unless you’re lost. We do not know where you go. But the Mage you have come chasing wanted to find out.”

“Our spirits do not go anywhere after we’re dead,” Dís protested. “Except to join with our ancestors.”  
  
“Dís, don’t talk to it,” Bilbo cautioned.  
  
“Oh, but please do,” the Demon purred. “I’ll have to admit I’ve not seen anyone like you, at least not in a long, long time. But-“  
  
The cage of lightening sparked and the Demon winced and glared at Bilbo. “This is what I know, now let me go."  
  
When Bilbo hesitated it bared its teeth. “Let me go or you will have a fight on your hands that you do not have time for. What the Mage do to the sleepers, it drains them. They never last long.”

Bilbo’s forehead was creased as testament to his displeasure and his mouth was a thin line but he waved his hand and the cage disappeared as did the circle of light around them.

"I'll see you around, little Mage,” the Demon said and inclined its head and then the air shimmered again and it was gone.

"Right,” Bilbo said and squared his shoulders. “The man who took Thráin either thinks I would not be able to break his spell, or he has a backup plan. He will have had time to move our bodies while we’ve been sleeping, but he’s probably not meaning to kill us. At least not right away. Nori if you've still your knives with you when you wake, don't rush. You'll probably be disoriented.

"Dís, same for you. You saw, there are others down there with him and if you cast any spells you might accidentally hit them. Be sure you know what you’re doing. I'll try and neutralise him. But I'll also need to be free to see to Thráin and anyone else he might have down here. So if you can, take him out. But don’t get too close, Thorin, this means you and your sword."

This was a side of Bilbo that Thorin had never seen before. He had been authoritative down in the Deep Roads as well, but not to this extent. He sounded like a general going to war.

"Ready?" Bilbo asked and after a moments hesitation Nori and Dís nodded. “Thorin?”  
  
“Ready,” Thorin said, reaching out to take Bilbo’s hand. It felt real enough but a glance above revealed that the Black City was still hanging in the sky.

Coming back to reality felt to Thorin like clawing his way up from a sack filled with wet cotton. No sooner had he realised that he was lying on one of the beds they’d seen earlier before he heard a voice he had already come to hate.

"You're planning to be a nuisance then? Did you not like your dream?"

Bilbo's voice rang out, but not in reply and Thorin scrambled off the bed to see glowing runes appear on the floor beneath them, all cantered around the tall, redheaded man standing in the middle of the room.

"Oh don't bother," the Mage scoffed. "I'll save us both some time. I know enough now. I’m done here. Perhaps we will meet again, perhaps...” He smiled and chuckled slight. “Perhaps only in our dreams."  
  
Out of his pocket he pulled up a small sharp looking blade that Thorin recognized as belonging to Nori and before either of them could do more than open their eyes wide in shock he had slit his throat. The sound of his body falling down to the floor seemed to echo in the room and it was immediately followed by a few hushed expletives from Nori. Thorin glanced up, but now there was only the dark shadows of the ceiling, no green sky, no dark city.

“Fucking crazy bastard,” Nori breathed.  
  
Bilbo seemed shocked as well but recovered quicker than any of the others. “We need to find Thráin now, before it’s too late.”  
  
But it was already too late.  
  
They found his body inside one of three smaller chambers inside the basement. Resting on a narrow wooden table raised high enough from the ground that it took the four a moment to see Thráin’s body resting on top of it.

"No," Thorin gasped and raced towards his father. His legs had felt a little unsteady ever since they had woken up "Father."  
  
Together he and Nori managed to drag lift him down, just barely avoiding to let his body smack down into the floor when he proved to be heavier and more unyielding than they had expected.  
  
“Father!” Thorin called, shaking Thráin’s shoulders. “Wake up!”  
  
“Bilbo, can you do something?” Dís asked and her voice had an audible tremble. “Please.”

Silent, Bilbo closed the small distance between him and where Thorin was now cradling his father’s body "He's gone." Bilbo's voice was quiet, but the words still struck Thorin like blow and the air rushed from his chest.   
  
“No.” He shook his head and gently smacked his hand against his father’s cheek. “No. That’s not possible. Father, wake up.”

Heavy footsteps and muffled voices were suddenly audible, coming from the stairs leading down to the basement. Bilbo's eyes flashed silver and his gaze turned distant for a moment before returning to their normal hazel. "Templars. We must have been asleep- Never mind. You'll be safe. They won't suspect you. But I can't be here. I- tell them there are people still alive. They need help. They must bring healers from the Circle to help or they’ll die."  
  
Dís was crying now, her forehead pressed against Thráin’s hands which he held in her own. She didn’t make a sound but her shoulders trembled with powerful sobs. Thorin felt numb. Their father couldn’t be dead. They could not have lost him too. They just couldn’t.  
  
“Nori,” Bilbo implored as the sound of footstep, and now also the subtle clink of armour, became louder and louder.  
  
“I’ll take care of them,” Nori promised grimly. “Go.”  
  
When the Templars stormed into the room Thorin wasn’t sure if Bilbo was still in it, or if he’d left, if he’d managed to leave the house somehow. All he was sure of was that he’d just lost another part of his family. His father was dead, just like Frerin was, just like his mother was. And none of them had needed to die. If Thorin had been smarter, stronger, better, he could have saved them.  


“Whoa,” he heard Nori say. “No need for that much steel flashed at me. No Mages left down here. He’s dead. But there are others down here. Four of us, all Dwarves, so really, no need to look so menacingly at me blondie, but there are humans and Elves. The Mage enchanted them somehow, you need to send for a Mage from the Gallows and-“

  
“We’ll do no such thing.”  
  
Thorin glanced up to see a tall man with long greying hair enter the room. His armour set him apart from the others who had milled into the room, the steel plates missing the symbol of the burning sword. Instead of a helmet he had a golden circlet on his head that marked him as Knight-Commander Denethor.  
  
“They’ll die if they won’t get help,” Nori protested. “They’re beyond the help of a normal healer, they need a magical one.”  
  
“To die would be preferable compared to have to thank magic for your life,” the Knight-Commander sneered. “And we had reports of a Blood Mage, they might be possessed.” He nodded to a Templar at his right hand. “The people in the beds, make sure they’re dead. If they’re not, help them along.”  
  
“What?!” Nori exclaimed. “You can’t-“  
  
“I can,” the Knight-Commander said shortly. “I will not allow possible abominations to be taken to the Circle, and none of the Mages are allowed to leave it at the moment. You and your companions are free to go, Mistress Dwarf, after I’ve had your reports of this situation of course, but I can’t extend the same courtesy to the others.”  
  
“You are going to let innocent people die,” Nori said, her hands itching to find one of her knives. “Worse, you are going to kill them.”  
  
“Magic leaves no one innocent,” the Knight-Commander said tersely. “With the exception of your kind. Your people are saved from this curse from the Maker. At least… you usually are.”  
  
Thorin tensed and his gaze snapped to Dís who did not seemed to have heard what could be a possible accusations. She was still crying, her hands fisted in Thráin’s shirt.  
  
“And what do you mean by that?” Nori asked, her hands on her hips as she glared up at the Templar.  
  
“That you should find better friends than those who should not be allowed to walk the streets of Kirkwall.” The Knight-Commander sneered. “Not even those of Darktown. Was he involved? Is that why you are here?”  
  
“We are here,” Thorin said without bothering to look up from his father’s pale, serene face. “Because this is our father and he is now dead. Killed. By someone he believed was a friend. By someone you let live in Hightown without ever suspecting for a moment that he was dangerous.”  
  
“The bloke lying in the other room in a pile of his own blood,” Nori filled in. “Called himself Artano, said he was from Antiva when he was actually a Tevinter Mage.”  
  
A murmur travelled through the Templars behind the Knight-Commander.   
  
“A Tevinter Mage? You are certain?”  
  
Nori shrugged. “Sure enough. But feel free to check for yourself.”  
  
“If you are right-“ Denethor paused. “I apologize for what has happened. We should have known. I promise it will not happen again. Harsher measures will be-“  
  
“That won’t bring my father back, will it?” Thorin said, meeting the Knight-Commander’s eyes for the first time. “And what do you think you could have done to prevent this? You can shut people in your prison all you want but it won’t help. Killing the people in this house, it won’t help.”

“We will develop ways to-“  
  
“Better treat people like slaves?” Thorin’s smile was void of mirth. He was so tired. And he never wanted to sleep ever again. “What good is that if you can’t know who are mages and who are not.”  
  
“You can’t talk to the Knight-Commander like that,” one of the Templars interjected. “Come with us now and leave your statements and then-“

“They've lost their father,” Nori protested and crossed her arms over her chest. “And if the one who gave your notice to come here was a blond Dwarf I’m guessing it’s now in the middle of the night. I will talk to one of your men now, everything else can wait. The Mage is dead. We are Dwarves. Solves most of your problems doesn’t’ it?" Nori snorted. “Especially if you’re really going to kill everyone else.”

"Mistress Dwarf, you-"

"Tomorrow," Thorin said, his voice hollow as he reached out to tug Dís into his arms. She buried her face into his shirt and he could feel it grow wet with her tears. "We can give our statements tomorrow."

His father was dead. Tortured. He died alone. They didn’t get to say goodbye. 

Nori said something, Thorin couldn’t hear her words. It was like she was speaking under water. He just heard the sharpness of her tone and then she crouched down beside him and Dís. When she next spoke her voice was gentle.

"I'll help you carry him."

"I can carry him," Thorin said absently into Dís’ hair.

Noris hand touched his cheek and he looked towards her. Tears brimmed in her green eyes, but they did not fall. 

"I'm sorry."

Thorin nodded and stroked his hand slowly and rhythmically between Dís’ shaking shoulders. 

"I am too."

  
-  


About one sleepless hour after they had returned to the estate Bilbo slipped into Thorin’s room.

"I am so very sorry," Bilbo said as he walked up to the bed with tentative steps.

"It wasn't your fault,” Thorin replied, staring up at the ceiling just had he had done ever since he stretched out on his mattress. No green sky. No Black City. This was reality then.  
  
Víli had been waiting for them outside the house and as soon as Dís had laid eyes on him she’d flown straight like an arrow into his arms. She didn’t need him and Thorin was glad. No one should need him. Then he would not let them down.

"If I had been faster. If I hadn't-"

"It wasn’t your fault,” Thorin repeated, shaking his head. Of course it wasn’t Bilbo’s fault.  
  
The bed dipped on his right side but Thorin didn’t turn his head until Bilbo cupped his face in both his palms.

"Thorin..." Bilbo shook his head and a little bit of the ice that had surrounded Thorin’s heart melted when he noticed the tears in Bilbo’s eyes. One fell, trailing down his smooth cheek like a liquid diamond.

"Please,” Thorin begged without really knowing what he was asking for. “I can't- I can't-"

“Shhh,” Bilbo blinked rapidly and settled in next to Thorin on the bed. “Shhh. You don’t need to-“   
  
“He’s dead,” Thorin said. A thought occurred to him. “He’ll never get to furnish a nursery now.”  
  
All of a sudden the rest of the ice cracked and as the hot tears started to fall Thorin buried his face in Bilbo’s neck and tried to not fall into pieces himself.

“Don’t leave me,” Thorin whispered against Bilbo’s skin and pressed his lips to the steadily drumming pulse point in Bilbo’s neck. “Please don’t leave.”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dalish](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Dalish)
> 
> [Blood Magic](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Blood_Magic)
> 
> [The Fade](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Fade)


	17. Present

“So neither Oakenshield, his sister, nor the Mage killed the Necromancer? He killed himself?”  
  
“Can you please stop calling him the Necromancer,” Ori said and ran her hand down her face. “I don’t know who came up with that one, but it wasn’t Nori. Probably someone who heard about all the corpses in the basement. Corpses. When the Templars could have saved them. Maybe it was the Templars who spread that story. It would suit their purposes.”  
  
The Templars had burnt all the bodies they’d found down in the basement. Nori had told her this later. They’d been afraid that a demon could possess them even after they were dead.  
  
“Your friends did not try and stop them?”  
  
Ori glared up at the Seeker. “You know of the Knight-Commander’s hate towards magic. Do you really think he would have let them? They would have had to kill him, and all the Templars in the basement. And even then…” She shook her head. “Some battles you can’t win.”  
  
“Why would he kill himself?”  
  
“I guess he didn’t think he would really die?” Ori sank back into the chair and sighed. She wasn’t sure what to tell the Seeker. Stone, she wasn’t even sure how much she understood herself. “Have you heard of what the Elves call Uthenera?”  
  
“That’s blasphemy,” the Seeker said, crossing her arms.  
  
“Oh good, you’ve heard of it then.” Ori tapped her fingers against the armrests of the chair. “Their immortal ancestors did not die, but some just went to sleep, their souls wandering the Fade for years and years while their bodies rested.”  
  
“Wandered together with their made-up Gods,” the Seeker sneered. “Yes I know.”  
  
“The Dalish refer to the Fade as the Beyond,” Ori explained, ignoring the dark glare she was getting. “And some of the ancestors who sank into that dream-like state came back changed. They had newfound knowledge and they knew the secret of dreams.   
  
“Bilbo grabbed some notes on his way out from the mansion. He thought that the Tevinter Mage believed that he had found the secret to immortality. A way to live on in the Fade even when your body is destroyed. And a way to come back to our world again. He took all those people to experiment. He sent their spirits deep into the Fade, without killing them, and then brought them back hoping that they would tell him of what they have learnt.”  
  
“And he learnt the secret of immortality?”  
  
Ori shrugged. “I think he thought that he did at least.”  
  
“Did your friend learn this secret too?”  
  
“Bilbo?” Ori blinked. “Oh, no he would never do that.”  
  
“Why not? He spent a lot of time with the Elves here in Kirkwall as well, he might-“  
  
“If you think that the Elves here in the Alienage know anything about ancient magical rites you are delusional,” Ori scoffed. “The Dalish hardly even remember the old ways anymore, and you think that the poor people, not even mages I might add, who live in shovels and shacks will?”  
  
“Stranger things have happened.”  
  
“Bilbo wouldn’t have tried to do what the other Mage did. He wouldn’t. He said it was too dangerous. He destroyed the notes.”  
  
“He was afraid of dying.”  
  
“He was afraid of what he might find in the Fade, in the Beyond. Of what might happen.” Ori snorted. “And if I tell you why, you will accuse me of being blasphemous again. I can’t even be blasphemous. I do not believe in your Maker.”  
  
The Seeker was silent for a few moments. “Tell me.”  
  
“You want like it.”  
  
“I still wish to know.”

“Remember you said that.” Ori squirmed. “May I have something to drink?”  
  
“Tell me, and I’ll send for something.”  
  
“Fine,” Ori sighed. “The Tevinter Mage, he hypothesised that the spirits in the fade, both the malicious and the more benevolent, had once been people, mostly mages, who had ventured too far into the Fade and lost themselves. The more powerful ones turned into Demons, the others…” She shrugged. “Other things. The Mage appeared to be fairly cheerful about this really. He-”  
  
“The spirits of the Fade are the first children of the Maker.” The Seeker’s voice was cold and disapproving.  
  
“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.”  
  
“And your friend believed this nonsense?”  
  
“Enough that he destroyed the notes.”  
  
“Interesting…” The Seeker went up to the door and knocked. After only a few moment it opened and she said a few words in Orlesian before pulling it closed again. “Continue.”  
  
“I’d just like to point out that we never heard anything more about this Mage and that Bilbo and Dís never-“  
  
“Continue.”  
  
“Do you even feel sorry for them?” Ori asked. “Thorin and Dís lost their brother to the Darkspawn. They’d lost their mother to illness years before, and now they lost their father to someone who thought it’d be interesting to try and send a Dwarf to the Fade to see what would happen.”  
  
“You lost your parents as well.”  
  
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Ori shook her head. “And I didn’t know them. But if you mean that just because everyone is likely to have lost someone we don’t need to care then I feel bad for you.”  
  
“Just continue with the story. Your water will be here soon.”  
  
When Ori did not speak the Seeker walked over and braced herself on the armrests, crowding Ori against the back of the chair.  
  
“Do not think that just because he was your friend he is above rebuke,” she told Ori, her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “He made a deal with a demon.”  
  
“He just didn’t want to fight it!”  
  
“He still made a deal.”  
  
“Everything is not black and white.”  
  
“Everything turns grey when dragged in the dust. Now,” The Seeker moved her hands to Ori’s arm and squeezed hard enough for Ori to wince. “ _Continue_.”


	18. Chapter Nine – Offered and Lost

Thorin was furious. If the greasy, moronic man did not stop lying to him then he would soon regret it, and the bruises he would acquire. It did not matter that it was the Viscount’s personal servant, Thorin would punch him and then he would do it again.  
  
“Master Oakenshield,” Alfrid simpered, ignoring how Thorin had already told him that Oakenshield was no name of his. “I’m afraid the Viscount can’t see you right now. He’s a very busy man.”  
  
“Too busy to care for the people in Kirkwall?” Thorin growled.  
  
“Never!” Alfrid denied with almost comically exaggerated fervour. “That is why he is so busy, Master Oakenshield. A city this size does not run itself. My master is nothing but dedicated to Kirkwall and her citizens. If you come back-”  
  
“Which is why he allows slavers to do as they please in Darktown, and to an extent in Lowtown as well?”

“Master Oakenshield!"  
  
“Do not call me that.” Thorin took a step towards the aggravating man, enjoying how it made Alfrid take a step back even though he was well over a foot taller than Thorin. “Your master, the Viscount of Kirkwall needs to do something about what is happening in the parts of this city that is not Hightown.”  
  
“I assure you-“  
  
“I do not need your assurances. I need to speak to the Viscount.”  
  
Desperate to keep his mind and body busy, Thorin had devoted even more time and energy to help the less fortunate in Kirkwall. Both working with Bilbo in his clinic, helping with the matters that did not require magic, and continuing what he, and his father, had begun when it came to providing food and aid to those most sorely in need of it.

But what good was food and a warm blanket when you could be snatched from your bed at night by a slaver?  
  
The Tevinter Mage had hired servants from Lowtown, servants who had been so relieved about getting work that they had not stopped to consider why he needed so many of them.  
  
He had also lured people into his house under the pretence that he would help them. The had not question this, after all, he and Thorin’s father had often been seen giving out food and supplies in the lower parts of the city. It had been easy to trust him.  
  
These two things, Thorin could do nothing about. He could not stop people from taking work as servants as that would mean letting them and their families starve, and he could hardly tell the people he tried to help to trust him, but to never anyone else.  
  
 _But_ , the Mage had also bought slaves. Many slaves. And this, this Thorin could do something about. Slavery was outlawed all over Thedas, except for in the Tevinter Empire. The Viscount had not only the right but the _duty_ to stop what was happening. If only the wretched excuse for a leader Kirkwall had would listen.  
  
“How much coin would I have to give you to be allowed to see the Viscount?”  
  
“Serrah, um,-“ Alfrid fumbled for a name that would be appropriate to use and found none. “Master Dwarf, I’m shocked and-“  
  
“How. Much.”  
  
Alfrid’s gaze narrowed, the simper entirely gone from his expression. “20 gold pieces.”  
  
It was outrageous, but to Thorin it was pocket change. Wealth really did have its advantages.  
  
“Done,” Thorin said shorly . “Now take me to him. You’ll get your money afterwards.”  
  
Alfrid blinked, and then a slow smile spread over face. “Yes, Master Dwarf. This way.”  
  
Finally.   
  
Thorin had tried talking to Captain Ceorl and the man had seem apologetic but still claimed that he could do nothing without an order from the Viscount. And this was the fourth day Thorin had gone to the Viscount’s Keep and requested an audience. He should have tried this right away.  
  
“Wait here,” Alfrid requested as they stopped outside two lavishly ornamented wooden doors.

Thorin inclined his head the slightest bit and stopped, but as Alfrid pushed open the doors and walked into what could only be the Viscount’s personal chambers Thorin did not hesitate to follow him.  
  
“I told you to wait,” Alfrid hissed and Thorin bared his teeth in something that anyone would have been hard-pressed to call a smile.  
  
“You did," he acknowledged.  
  
“Alfrid, is that you?”  
  
“Yes, Master,” Alfrid called. “You have a guest.”  
  
“Oh, bother. Make them go away. I’m busy.”  
  
Alfrid tilted his head towards Thorin and raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘I told you so’. Thorin waved his hand at him. “Get on with it.”  
  
“I have Serrah Oakenshield-“ Alfrid ignored the dark look Thorin gave him. “-here with me. It won’t take long.”  
  
“Oh, very well then. Come!”  
  
Alfrid led Thorin through the parlour into a bigger and even more extravagantly decorated receiving room.

The Viscount was sitting behind a large wooden desk, appearing to be in the middle of either a meal or a set of accounts as the desk was filled with bags of coin and plates with roasted chicken. As Thorin walked in he stood up and little pieces of meat tumbled from his clothes onto the desk.

"Serrah." The Man’s smile was oily and insincere. "What can I do for you."  
  
Thorin looked in distaste on the grease stains on the Viscount’s clothes and how his belly bulged out beneath his clothes. The food on his desk alone would feed a family in Darktown for almost a week.

"You can care for this city,” Thorin said shortly and the Viscount’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing as he looked over Thorin’s shoulder at Alfrid. Shortly after that a door closed behind Thorin and he idly wondered if the weasel-like man had run away or been sent away.

“Serrah, I assure you that I do care for this city,” the Master said quietly and pressed his hand over his heart. A hand decorated with no less than three golden rings as well as a smudge of chicken grease.

“Good.” Thorin folded his arms over his chest. “Then you’ll put an end to the slavers that are picking their way through Darktown. And even Lowtown.”

“Slavers you say?” The Viscount hummed and sank back down into the chair. “How terrible.”  
  
“The guards are doing nothing.”  
  
“Really? Have you spoken to Captain Ceorl?”  
  
“He is waiting for orders from you,” Thorin said flatly.

A fleeting expression of pleasure was immediately replaced by concern on the Viscount’s moonlike face.  
  
“Well, I will certainly have a word with him then.”  
  
“And tell him to send men to hunt down the slavers?”  
  
The Viscount’s gaze slipped away from Thorin’s. “Thorin, may I call you Thorin? I know that you are, as they say, a man or perhaps Dwarf, of the people. But you are surely also a reasonable one? Darktown is impossible to control. We simply to do not have the resources-“  
  
“What do you call this then?” Thorin growled and picked up a bag of coin. It was heavier than he’d expected and made a satisfying bang as he dropped it to the floor.  
  
“Really now, there is no reason for that. I-“  
  
“Viscount?” Alfrid poked his head in, smiling vacantly at Thorin when the Dwarf turned to glare at him. “A messenger has arrived. Important news. Terribly urgent.”  
  
“More urgent than the people of Kirkwall being sold as slaves?” Thorin kicked at the back of coin and revelled in the way the Viscount flinched. “Must be urgent indeed.”  
  
He would not be surprised if this was something the Viscount and this greedy little rat had made up to-  
  
“Now wait a minute,” Alfrid protested as a man wearing the armour of the city guards pushed him aside and walked into the room.  
  
“M’lord Viscount,” he said and bowed his head. “We’ve lost two more patrols. One more on the Wounded Coast and one-“  
  
“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something,” the Viscount sputtered. “Serrah Thorin, my apologies but as you see we will need to continue this later. I need to handle this.”

"I'll be back tomorrow then," Thorin says with a stiff smile and a small bow.  
  
“Well,” the Viscount began but Thorin did not allow him a chance to delay the meeting. Compared to Dwarven nobility this man was a child when it came to politics, and Thorin might not be an expert in handling the former, but he was certainly good enough to be able to handle this.  
  
“Thank you.” Thorin inclined his head again. “I will see you before noon then.” And with that he walked around the messenger and Alfrid before the Viscount had time to protest. He could of course still try and make up excuses when Thorin came to see him in the morning, but he would handle that then.

-

"Thorin, trying to get the Viscount to send guards into Darktown will not be a popular decision.” Nori braced her elbow on the kitchen table and gestured towards Thorin with her spoon. “No one is going to like it.”  
  
“They’ll be safe,” Thorin argued.  
  
“They'll feel like they're as much at risk from the guards as from any slaver," Nori nudged Glóin, sitting to her right. “We’re getting married, agree with me.”  
  
“Love, it does not work like that,” Glóin sighed. “But she does have a point,” he added to Thorin.  
  
“See, t does work like that. Ori, what do you think?”  
  
“Um, well the people living in Darktown do not like guards. Sorry,” she added and shrugged apologetically at Thorin.  
  
"And you'll be sending guards who will be looking for Mages as well. Guess who’s the best known Mage in all of Kirkwall?" Nori pursed her lips. “And the first two don’t count.”

"Bilbo can move into the estate."

"Good luck with that,” Nori snorted. “Oh, and by the way, he won’t like this idea either.”

“Care to suggest anything else?” Thorin put his fork down and raised his chin. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t just sit here and pretend that everything is all right.”  
  
“You’ve not lived in Kirkwall long enough then,” Nori said wryly. “No, sit down,” she added when Thorin pushed his chair back and began to stand. “It was a bad joke. Well sort of. But you can’t solve this by making the Viscount fill the streets in Darktown with guards. If nothing else they’ll just end up being killed. All sorts of unmoral people running around down there after all.”  
  
Glóin coughed pointedly and then grinned when Nori elbowed him. “I did not say a word, my treasure.”  
  
When they kissed Ori sighed and kicked Nori’s chair. “Not while we’re eating.”  
  
“Mind your own business,” Nori replied and leaned into Glóin’s side.  
  
“People are dying,” Thorin barked, making everyone jump. “I’m trying to do something about it. Will you help me or not.”  
  
“Of course we’ll help,” Glóin said, reaching over the table to put his hand on Thorin’s arm. “Of course.”  
  
“You just can’t expect to find the perfect solution.” Nori frowned and stroked one of her braids. “You just need to petition the Viscount for a change that will not make things worse. Maybe… If he would enforce stricter inspections for ships leaving and arriving to the docks then he would make it harder for the slavers to take and bring slaves to Kirkwall. Not to mention that the Viscount will get added revenue from the taxes for all the other things discovered as well. If he's got someone to gain from it... that might just make it easier to swallow.”

It was not a bad idea, but it would not save anyone from being taken in Kirkwall and then sold in Kirkwall. "They'll find a way around it. And it won't stop the trade inside the city."

"Yes but the slave trade in Kirkwall is small.”  
  
Thorin opened his mouth to protest but Nori waved her fork at him. “It is. The only reason we have one at all is because of the annoying nobles from Orlais. It’s stylish or some rot like that, despite being illegal. But mostly the slaves are either shipped away from Kirkwall, or they never leave the docks. They just get moved from one ship to the next, but even that’s not really any big business. It’s easier for them to sail to Ostwick. The Teyrn there doesn’t care what you do as long as you do it discretely.”  
  
“What you don’t want to happen is the Viscount realising that there’s money to be made,” Glóin cautioned. “He’s not a stupid sort really, but greedy enough. I’d not think it impossible that he’d wriggle in with the slavers if the right opportunity knocked. Dangerous, sure, but that man certainly has a price for everything.”  
  
“You’re telling me that he would sell his own people?” Thorin asked flatly.  
  
“Not his people,” Glóin shrugged. “You’ve said it yourself, Kirkwall is a divided city. People like the Viscount, living in Hightown, they don’t care about the rest.”  
  
“I care.”  
  
“The point is,” Nori interrupted before it could turn into a real argument. “Is that politics is a fine tool, it can't be wielded as a sledge hammer." She snorted. “You and Bilbo are alike in that way. He wants to get rid of the Circles completely, have the Mages live like anybody else.”  
  
Thorin’s brow clouded. “You do not agree this is the best option? My sister-“  
  
“What’s good and well for her, and for Bilbo, might not really be the best for everyone. Thorin, if the Circles are gone, and the Mages are to live with the rest of the people here in Kirkwall, they’ll end up getting killed, or worse. People are afraid of them. Scared people to stupid things.”  
  
“They will never know not to be afraid if all Mages are kept locked up in-“  
  
“And the first time an accident happens, what do you think people will do?”  
  
Glóin slammed his palm down on the table. “As Ori said, not while we’re eating.”  
  
Thorin and Nori both leaned back in their chairs, still glaring at each other.  
  
“All I’m saying is that reality is a little more complicated than people tend to imagine it.” Nori sniffed. “And if you’re playing with things you don’t understand, it’s easier to break them.”  
  
“I would never have believed that you would not agree regarding this.” Thorin picked up his fork and stabbed it into a carrot.  
  
“I don’t like Circles,” Nori pointed out. “Especially not the way Denethor is running it here in Kirkwall. And the news about what happened in Ferelden, not something I took pleasure in. But Mages aren’t necessarily good people, I would like to present the entire Tevinter Empire as evidence for that. And even if they are, accidents-“  
  
“Can we please not talk about this?” Glóin said tiredly when he noticed how Thorin’s brow darkened again. “I’ll go down to the Hanged Man later, Ori, please join me if you will. And the two of you can stay here and shout at each other until you feel better.”  
  
Nori and Thorin again lapsed into a sullen silence and Ori glanced between them, upset that her sister and her friend was fighting.  
  
“What about the missing guards then?”  
  
When all gazes fell on her Ori squirmed. “If guards are going missing, that might also make the Viscount less likely to want to send a bunch of them down into Darktown.”  
  
“Quite right,” Nori nodded and smiled at her sister.  
  
“Do you know anything about that?” Thorin asked.  
  
“I’ve not had anything to do with it if that’s what you mean,” Nori huffed.*  
  
“I believe I asked if you _knew_ anything,” Thorin said and they glared at each other for a few moments before Nori relented.  
  
“Not much. About thirty guards missing so far. None of the people I’ve talked to claim to know anything. Some of them are happy about it, make no doubt about it, but no one is admitting to anything.” She rolled her eyes. “And the ones who are happy are just stupid. If guards go missing the captain is going to want to find out why. And he won’t be asking politely. I’m guessing it’s smugglers, or bandits since most of ‘em have gone missing on the Wounded Coast. Or maybe they’re just sick of being guards. If you want to sneak away from Kirkwall, going by the Wounded Coast is a good option.”  
  
“Anything keeping them from just quitting?”  
  
“Depends on what kind of contract they’ve signed. They might have gotten their pay in advance, so quitting would mean they need to pay it back.” Nori sighed. “But it’s a little unbelievable that so many would feel the need for new horizons, so either that’s not it or they kill off their own to make their escape. If they’ve got family here that would mean no one would suspect that they’ve run off and come to them to collect their wages.”  
  
“That’s horrible,” Ori said with a frown. “You think they could do that?”  
  
“I guess it depends on how badly they want to get away.” Nori nudged Glóin with her elbow and he obligingly put his arm around her so she could cuddle closer to his side. “Desperate people do desperate things.”  
  
“We are incredibly cheerful tonight,” Ori remarked absently, and then she looked guilty at Thorin. “Not that we need to be cheerful. It’s understandable if you- we’re not cheerful.”  
  
She looked so distraught that Thorin felt his lips twitch, just a little. Thráin’s death had left its mark on them all. It was almost comforting to know that he was still in Ori’s thoughts as well.

“Ori, it’s all right,” he promised. “I guess it has just been a long day.”  
  
Ori’s eyes brightened. “I made pie for dessert. Pie always helps.”  
  
She scuttled off to collect it from the kitchen and Thorin looked at Nori and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“It’s just a _little_ burnt,” she whispered and they smiled at each other and Glóin relaxed.  
  
-

This time when Thorin showed up at the Keep Alfrid was nowhere in sight. Not bothering to ask one of the servants to track him down Thorin instead went up the stairs towards the Viscount’s chambers. If no one knew he was coming than no one could make up any convenient excuses as to why he couldn’t see the Viscount. He was not in a mood for meaningless chatter.  
  
Thorin had hoped that Bilbo would stop by last night but he’d not been so fortunate. Instead he’d sent word with Nori that he’d spend the evening working, which meant that he’d spend it writing. Thorin still hadn’t been told exactly what it was that Bilbo was working on, and he was hardly about to go snooping through his paper, but whatever it was, Thorin did not like it. But he had to trust that if it was important Bilbo would tell him eventually.  
  
Already before Thorin opened the door to the Viscount’s private chambers he heard raised voices coming from inside. Trying to be quiet Thorin pulled the door opened and peered into the parlour. No one was there, but he could hear the voices a lot clearer now.  
  
“My men are missing and I need to find out why! They might be dead!”  
  
“If they’re dead then there’s no hurry, is there,” the Viscount said cajolingly. “Come now, Captain. Surely you can agree that storming off to coast is not a-“  
  
“We don’t know what happened. I need to-“  
  
“Exactly,” the Viscount interjected. “Since you don’t know what’s happened you-“  
  
“How do you expect me to do my job, if I’m not allowed to do my job,” Ceorl said tightly.  
  
“Oh fine.” There was the sound of a chair scraping along the floor. “Go then. But don’t take more than a dozen men. And on your head be it if anything happens.”  
  
Taking this as his cue Thorin opened the door fully and marched in without any further dallying. When Alfrid, who appeared to have been hiding in a corner, hurried over to intercept him Thorin pointedly put his hand on the pommel of his sword – which he had donned for this exact purpose – and then tried to not take too much pleasure in the look on the man’s face.

“Viscount,” Thorin said and nodded at the same. “Captain Ceorl,” he added and inclined his head.  
  
“Master Dwarf,” Ceorl acknowledged. “Please accept my condolences.”  
  
Thorin nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Viscount and Alfrid exchange puzzled looks. Apparently they did not listen to gossip, or they only listened to some of it considering Alfrid’s use of the name Oakenshield.

“I’d best be off then,” Ceorl continued. “But-“  
  
There was the dull but powerful sound of an explosion and the entire Keep seemed to shake slightly, enough to make dust rain down from the ceiling and onto their heads.  
  
“What in the world-“ the Viscount gasped.  
  
“Probably just a build-up of gas in Darktown,” Alfrid said dismissively, as if that was nothing to be concerned about. Thorin glared at him and opened his mouth but the guard captain was faster.  
  
“No,” the Captain said slowly. “That sounded much too close for it to be Darktown, or even Lowtown.”  
  
He started to stride towards the exit but before he could get there the doors were thrust open and a tall, very pale, bald human walked inside. The colour of his skin would have made Thorin take a second look under normal circumstances but what commanded his attention now was the large, bloody mace the man held in his left hand.  
  
“How wonderful!” the man exclaimed as he got a good look at the people gathered together in the room. “The viscount, the captain of the guard and the famous Thorin Oakenshield all in a room. I could hardly have asked for more. Well, the Knight-Commander I guess, but this is hardly Chantry business. Then again-“ His face split in a grin that seemed to contain far too many teeth. “He hardly sticks to just Chantry business these days anyway. Good for him.”  
  
“Who do you think-“ the viscount began, but Ceorl – looking far paler than he’d done only moments before – interrupted him.  
  
“Azog,” he breathed.  
  
“You recognize me then, Captain,” the man, Azog, smiled. “But I see that your companions do not. Would you do me the _honour_?”

Captain Ceorl looked towards the now open door and his hand twitched down towards his weapon.  
  
Azog tutted. “You can try it, but there’s a few more corpses out in the courtyard then there were a few moments ago. And definitely more of my own men. Alive, I might add. And most of the people soon to be corpses are busy dealing with the situation I created for them. You might have heard a slight boom, just now? What a blessing in disguise that so many guards have gone missing lately. The barracks were a lot more empty than they could have been.”  
  
“So it was _you_ ,” Captain growled. “The missing patrols.”  
  
“I don’t know any Azog. Tell me who he _is_ ,” the Viscount blustered and Thorin shot the man an incredulous look. Did he not realise what kind of situation they were in the middle of? Whoever this Azog was, he hardly meant to stop by for tea and biscuits if he had killed to get here.

The pale man turned his attention to Thorin. “I’m _hurt_ that _you_ don’t recognize me. You’re certainly planning to make my life more difficult, but I guess it’s not personal? Not for you either, Captain?” He hefted the mace thoughtfully in one hand. “Still waiting for that introduction.”

“This is Azog,” the Captain growled. “Leader of the Orcs.”  
  
“The slavers,” Thorin snarled. He had not recognized the name Azog, but the Orcs was a group that he had heard all too much about ever since he’d started talking to the people of Darktown. They were the monsters lurking in the dark, living in the shadows and the scary stories told to children to make them behave – be nice or the Orcs will take you – and it wasn’t until Thorin came across a heartbroken girl who claimed that her lover had been taken by the Orcs that he understood that these people might actually be real.  
  
“So you do know who I am.” Azog grinned, or perhaps he had not stopped grinning ever since he came in. “Good, hopefully this will be quick. I want you all, all three of you, to stop sticking your fingers into my business. We’re going to nip this one right in the bud. Really,” he added, looking straight at Thorin. “Stuffing Darktown full of guards? Bad idea.”  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes Thorin saw Alfrid inch his way behind Azog to the door. Azog did not appear to have noticed Alfrid as he’d been hidden away in a corner like he’d been when Thorin first entered the room, and now the man was going to attempt an escape. Hoping that he would manage to get help Thorin tried to distract Azog.  
  
“This is the second time I’ve come to talk to the Viscount about this,” Thorin stated. “The first time was yesterday. How can you possibly know what I was planning.”  
  
Alfrid slipped out, giving Thorin a wide-eyed look as he did so.  
  
Azog’s grin got wider. “Little birdies leaving little bits of information. Little birdies and-“  
  
Alfrid was tossed inside the room and skidded across the floor before he stopped at Azog’s feet.  
  
“-little weasels,” Azog finished and smiled down at Alfrid who looked to be moments away from pissing himself.  
  
“You’ve been giving him information,” Ceorl barked. “Why-“  
  
“I would not call it ‘giving’,” Azog said and winked at Alfrid. “I’ve paid for it. Paid well even. But I’m tired of it now.”  
  
It only took a few moments. Azog raised his mace, let it fall down in a small but powerful swing, and then half of Alfrid’s head was missing. Behind Thorin the Viscount gagged and retched.  
  
“It’s not like you would have told him anything after this anyway,” Azog told the Viscount. “Not when you now he’d not keep it to himself. Really, I did you a favour. Who knows what else he knew that you wouldn’t want revealed.” Azog knocked the mace against the floor and drops of blood flew off it to land on the white marble. “With that out of the way, may I please have your agreement to go back to how things were? No more patrols on the Wounded Coast. No more scheming to put more guards into Darktown?”  
  
“No,” Thorin said, his voice low and dangerous.

“No,” The Captain echoed.  
  
Viscount was hysteric. “Yes! Yes, whatever you say! Don’t kill me.”

“And what do you two hope to accomplish by saying no?” Azog let the mace knock against the ground again. “If you agree to do as I say then we will all leave here today as friends. If you won’t agree, then I think you just won’t leave.”

“I don’t want to die!” The Viscount covered behind his chair and Azog snorted.  
  
“See, he knows what’s good for him. Anyone want to change their mind? We’ll start with you then,” he said to Ceorl. “You’ve annoyed me longer.”  
  
In a flash Captain Ceorl had his sword in his hands. “I’ll happily kill you,” he told Azog. “Even before you killed my men I would have volunteered.”  
  
“How interesting.” Azog rolled his eyes and let out a loud whistle. Immediately there was the sound of footsteps outside the room and Ceorl faltered somewhat when six large men walked in, all armed, all splattered with blood.  
  
“I’ll do anything,” the Viscount wailed.  
  
“That’s what I like to hear.” Azog nodded at him. “Let’s make a list.”  
  
All of a sudden a door across the room opened, it was covered with the same lavish wallpaper as the surrounding walls, and Thorin hadn't even noticed it before that very moment. A guard walked in, closely followed by another, and when the Viscount saw them he covered a little further behind his chair and pointed a shaking finger at Azog.  
  
“Kill him!” he shrieked. “Kill him!”  
  
Azog jerked his head towards two of his men, and before the two guards could draw their weapons their bodies hit the floor.  
  
“That was not smart,” Azog told the Viscount. “I want to give you a second chance, but how can I trust you now?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
“Oh I like it when they beg.” Azog grinned at his men. “It doesn’t happen often enough. You’d think it would but people are proud. They don’t like to beg. They-“  
  
Azog ducked away from Ceorl when he swung his sword. “They are more stubborn than you’d think, was what I was going to say,” he told the guard captain even as he raised his mace to block the next strike. Ceorl was good, but not good enough when three of Azog’s men decided to join in.  
  
The dull sound of Ceorl’s body hitting the floor seemed to wake Thorin up from whatever dazed state he’d been in. The pool of red spreading beneath the guard captain made Thorin realise that it was possible that none of them would make it out of this room alive.   
  
“Too stubborn by half. He would have made a lousy slave,” Azog sniffed. “As would you, my fat friend,” he added to the Viscount. “No one wants a fat slave. Gives the impression that they don’t work hard enough. And no one wants Dwarves either. Aren’t you all lucky?”  
  
The Viscount’s gaze jumped between the dead guards, Ceorl’s body in the rapidly growing pool of blood, and to Alfrid’s crushed head. The sound of dripping liquid made Thorin turn his head to see a dark stain spread itself over the front of the Viscount’s velvet trousers.  
  
Azog chuckled. “You could have told me that you needed a chamber pot.”  
  
He was crazy, Thorin realised. Or so close to being crazy that it made no difference.  
  
“I’ve changed my mind,” Thorin heard himself say. “I’ll do as you say.”  
  
If he had thought about it he would have expected the words to get stuck in his throat, for them to be physically difficult to utter. But even though it smarted a little in the foolish place in his chest that was his pride, the lie came easily enough. He was _not_ going to die here.  
  
“Of course you will,” Azog smiled. “And come to think of it, you might be even more helpful than I first thought. People seem to trust you. That could be... useful.”  
  
Just the thought of it was sickening. Despite Thorin knowing that he would never really do what Azog planned for him… just the idea to lure people with kind words and then deliver them into the arms of someone like this man, who would sell them or kill them or worse… It made Thorin's stomach turn.  
  
Unfortunately those thoughts must have shown on his face because Azog laughed again.  
  
“Yes, I can see how much that idea pleases you. Really, why did all three of you have to be so stubborn. I can’t trust either of you.”  
  
The smile slipped away from his face.

“A good plan always includes a second plan. I had hoped we could all leave here today as friends, but if we can’t… I’d hate to leave empty handed.”  
  
“Coin!” the Viscount croaked. “Take the coin. Don’t kill me, please.”

“Not as dumb as he looks that one,” Azog mused. “Tell you what. Show me where you keep the valuables in this place, and do it quickly, and I promise your end will be quick.” He looked at Thorin. “Now… what to do with you.”  
  
Thorin spared a thought for Bilbo and Dís, then he drew his sword. Azog laughed. “That’s- you’re so tiny. No, no,” he said to his men who had taken a step closer. “I’ll handle this. Two of you, go out and make sure no one disturbs us.”  
  
The urge to tell the man that he’d once killed an ogre was overwhelming but Thorin bit his tongue. It would not help.  
  
Azog took a step closer and Thorin angled himself as to make a smaller target. Two more steps and he would be within range, but Thorin feared that it would only take one more step for Azog before his longer arms as well as his mace would get the advantage.  
  
Before Thorin could decide if it was best to try and defend or attack something snapped inside the Viscount. Shrieking wildly he ran from his place behind the chair and aimed for the door from which the two guards had come.  
  
“Not so smart after all,” Azog murmured, not taking his eyes from Thorin.  
  
The moment after the Viscount’s hand touched the door it was pierced by a knife, thrown from one of Azog’s men with precision not even Nori would scoff at. The Viscount looked at the blade sticking out of his palm with something aching to surprise, and that look remained as he took the next knife to his stomach.

“What did you do that for!?” Azog snarled at the man who had thrown the knives. “I wanted him alive for longer than that.”  
  
“He’s fat,” the man shrugged. “He’ll live a while longer. Just don’t take the knife out before you’re done.”

“Kill him,” Azog said to another one of his men, who took a step towards the Viscount whose mouth was opening and closing but sound no longer came out of it. “NOT HIM!” Azog bellowed. “THE IDIOT WHO THREW THE KNIFE!”

Said idiot blanched and took a step back, but he didn’t get any further before one of the others slit his throat.

“I hear you are quite popular,” Azog said to Thorin. “Do you think they would make you a new viscount? If I let you live. Sure, you’re a Dwarf, but why let that stand in your wa?. Then again, why should I let you live... You can’t be trusted.”

A huge crashed signalled that the Viscount had tumbled to the floor.  
  
“Idiot,” Azog muttered.

"You are mad," Thorin gritted out. "What do you hope to accomplish with this?"

"What do you hope to accomplish by trying to change something that has been working just fine for years? Not to mention killing one of my best customers. I don’t normally do business with Mages here in Kirkwall, too risky what with the Knight-Commander, but that was lucrative enough to take a chance. What I hope to accomplish…" Azog grinned. "Coin. A quiet life without any disturbances."  
  
Thorin gestured at the Viscount. He still breathed, but a red stain was rapidly growing on his belly.  
  
“No disturbances? What do you call that then?”  
  
“A mistake.” Azog ran his free hand over his head. He turned his head slightly, and still keeping one eye on Thorin he gave his men orders to kill the Viscount and to start collecting the valuables in the room.  
  
“To kill you… that would certainly be effective but it’s somewhat of a short term solution. People forget dead heroes quickly you know. They make for very bad examples. Unfortunately for you, living ones are even worse.” Azog’s took a step closer and Thorin took a step back. “People don’t need them telling them that they can fight back. That will just make things messy.”  
  
Thorin’s fingers clenched around the hilt of the sword, and when he heard a pained gurgle his eyes flicked towards the Viscount. The man's throat had now been slit and Thorin watched in horrified fascination how bright red blood welled up and cascaded down his shirt in such quantities that it seemed impossible.  
  
“I could poke your eyes out. Pathetic cripples make for poor heroes. But very good examples.”

“You can try,” Thorin said, attempting to be brave even though he felt anything but. Again he thought about Dís and Bilbo. Now he would be the one who died without giving his sister a chance to say goodbye. One day she would hopefully forgive him for it. And Bilbo… The thought of never seeing him again yanked at Thorin’s heart. When Dwarves died, if they were worthy, they became one with the Ancestors, part of the Stone. Would he ever see Bilbo again? In this life, or what came after.  
  
It seemed unlikely. Bilbo was meant for green growing things, not for the Stone.  
  
“I’ll have your tongue as well I think,” Azog mused. “And a limb. Have any preferences?”

Thorin was not given time to reply.   
  
Azog moved quickly for someone of his size and when the mace came down in an arch Thorin only had time to move so what would have become a disabling blow only glanced his shoulder. Unfortunately it was enough to knock his sword from his hands and it slid away from Thorin as he tumbled to the floor.  
  
“An arm seems fitting," Azog murmured. "Or just a hand, for getting into my business."  
  
"You will _not_ touch him."  
  
Thorin’s first thought was that he was hallucinating. Or… He glanced up and found only the ceiling. Not dreaming then.  
  
“Who said that,” Azog asked, narrowing his eyes, mace still raised and ready to bear down on Thorin.  
  
Bilbo, because it _was_ Bilbo – even if Thorin couldn’t see him he would know his voice anywhere - did not reply. Instead a warm hand touched Thorin’s cheek. Only briefly. Only for a moment, but Thorin felt himself immediately relax. At least until he looked up and saw Azog looming overhead.  
  
“Check the doors,” Azog growled to his minions. “Both of them. Perhaps someone has come to check on the Viscount quicker than we thought. Too bad for them.”  
  
“I need you to get behind the desk,” Bilbo whispered. “I’ll distract them. Then I’ll take care of them.”  
  
Thorin almost protested before he realised how foolish he was being. He wasn’t wearing armour, he had lost his weapon, and he was sorely outnumbered. Lóni had always said that running away was sometimes the smartest move. Nori had said that Bilbo knew how to fight, he would need to trust her, and Bilbo.

“All right,” Thorin replied, his voice barely louder than a breath.

After that time seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time.  
  
Azog’s blow had knocked Thorin closer to the desk and the Dwarf managed to get to his feet and take a step towards it before Azog noticed that he was no longer sprawled on the floor. When the pale man realised that Thorin was appeared to be backing away, not moving towards his sword, or towards a doorway, his annoyed frown melted into a feral grin. A grin that froze when Bilbo appeared in the middle of the room in a burst of golden light.

Immediately after he had become visible the air around Bilbo began to shiver and spark. One of the slavers pulled a knife from his belt and let it fly towards the Mage. Purely on instinct Thorin reached out a hand as if he could somehow stop the blade from hitting its target, but just as useless of a gesture that was, as useless was the knife against Bilbo.  
  
Striking nothing, the knife stopped mid-air, spun around and then flew back to the man who had thrown it to lodge itself in his chest.  
  
“Behind the desk _now_ ,” Bilbo said and with one more look at his lover Thorin took the three steps he needed to dive beneath the desk, wincing as he landed in a way that jarred his shoulder.

Once, Thorin had been on the surface with his father when a thunder storm caught up with them shortly before they could reach Erebor. The sky had been a bruised purple, here and there almost tinged black. The day had been hot, unusually hot for the Frostback Mountains, but little by little the temperature had dropped, and Thorin had even felt the need to don the cloak he’d removed that morning when it seemed he would melt if he kept it on.   
  
There had been a rumbling sound. And Thorin remembered feeling his skin tingle. In the very next moment a spear of lightening had hit a pine tree just next to the path and the following crash had made his ears ring for days.  
  
Landing behind the desk, Thorin felt the same tingling sensation as he'd done back then. Like cold ants crawling over his body.

There was a crack, not as loud as the one created by the lightening hitting the tree, but close. One of the men called out but his voice abruptly broke off. The air cracked again, and sparks lit up the room.  
  
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. One, two, three, four thuds of bodies hitting the floor. A fifth. A sixth. And Thorin waited for the seventh before remembering that one had ended up stabbed with his own knife already before Bilbo had-  
  
“Thorin?”

With a grimace Thorin stood up and looked towards his lover. Bilbo looked like he always did. He wasn’t even breathing hard. All around him lay the fallen slavers, Azog with his arm and mace outstretched along the floor, pointing towards Bilbo as if he’d been in the middle of a strike when he fell.  
  
“Are you all right?” Bilbo asked worriedly and stepped over Azog’s head as he rushed towards Thorin.  
  
Thorin stared dumbly at him, at the dead slavers, at the others. “Yes?”  
  
Not taking his word for it Bilbo pressed his hands to Thorin’s cheeks, swept them over his chest and arms and when Thorin flinched as Bilbo pressed down on his shoulder the blond huffed in annoyance and closed his eyes.  
  
“How?” Thorin asked as a sweet warmth spread through his shoulder and arm and down his side. “How did you know?”  
  
Bilbo did not open his eyes.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
“I dreamt it,” Bilbo said tightly. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”  
  
“You dreamt it?”  
  
“Thorin, are you hurt?”  
  
“No,” Thorin shook his head. “I’m fine. You dreamt it? Like you told me, after you touched the stone?”  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo admitted. “But I had forgotten all about this one. I only remembered when I heard the explosion. Then I remembered. And-“ He drew in a shaky breath. “He- the large pale one-“  
  
“Azog.”  
  
“He did much worse than bruise your shoulder.” Bilbo looked up at Thorin and stroked his hand down Thorin’s right arm before reaching up and placing his hand on Thorin’s neck. “And I forgot about it.”  
  
“You saved me,” Thorin said and covered Bilbo’s hand with his own. “Thank you.”  
  
“What if there are other things I’ve forgotten?” Bilbo’s eyes seemed huge in his pale face. “What if-“  
  
“You saved me,” Thorin murmured and leaned down to press his lips against Bilbo’s. He’d intended for it to be a light kiss, but the moment they touched Bilbo pressed into his arms, winding his own around Thorin’s neck and all but climbing him in his urgency to get closer.  
  
It wasn’t until Thorin felt Bilbo’s hand scramble over the laces to his breeches that Thorin remembered where they were.  
  
“Bilbo, we can’t. Not here.” Thorin gently pushed Bilbo back and shifted uncomfortably when he saw his lover’s flushed cheeks and reddened lips. However the sight of Captain Ceorl’s fallen body worked just as well as a cold bath.

“Right,” Bilbo said, blanching when he too remembered that they shared the room with almost a dozen dead bodies. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Gods.”  
  
He scrambled away from Thorin and crouched at Captain’s Ceorl’s side, touching his hand to the man’s neck. Not finding what he was looking for Bilbo then glanced at the Viscount and Alfrid, but seemed to decide that they were most definitely beyond his help. Considering the state of Alfrid's head and the Viscount's throat, Thorin would agree with that assessment.   
  
“Your sword?” Bilbo asked and Thorin glanced confusedly in the direction his sword had fallen. Following his gaze Bilbo hurried over and picked it up.  
  
"I wasn't here,” he said and looked meaningfully at Thorin.

"Bilbo?"

"I can't be found here. And they can't know I was here." Bilbo’s expression was grim but determined. “We need to make it look like you killed them.”  
  
“But you killed them.” Thorin took a step towards him. “You saved me.”

"I killed these people with magic. That's illegal, Thorin."

"But-"

Bilbo held his sword out, balanced on his palms. "So far the Templars have hunted me because I've helped people using magic. What do you think the Knight-Commander will do now that I've killed someone in the city? He'll think me an even bigger threat."

"But these were _slavers_ ,” Thorin protested.

Bilbo smiled sadly. "That's perhaps even worse. By doing something good I will prove Mages are not only capable of evil. Denethor will need to hunt me down and prove me wrong."  
  
Shaking his head Thorin took his sword and let it slip into the scabbard at his hip. “You saved me.”  
  
“And now you need to save me.” Bilbo laced his fingers with Thorin’s. “No one can know I’ve been here. I’ll be accused of killing the Viscount. Of being in league with the slavers. Of twisting your mind with blood magic. Please. It won’t show how they really died. Their bodies have no mark. Make it look like you did it.”  
  
Slowly Thorin drew his sword again and Bilbo squeezed his hand before letting go.

"I need to leave now. Guards or Templars or both will be coming soon. To check on the Viscount. If the Templars come… I don't know if they'll feel that the Fade was disturbed. Say that one of the slavers was an Apostate Mage. Please."

Stretching up on his tip-toes Bilbo pressed a kiss to the corner of Thorin’s mouth and then he disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Only not, because Thorin could still feel the warmth of him pressed along his front.  
  
Fisting his hand in soft curls Thorin leaned down and pressed his lips to the crown of Bilbo’s head. His hair smelled the same, even when Thorin couldn't see it.  
  
“I will do what you ask.”  
  
“Thank you,” Bilbo whispered and when he stepped back Thorin let him go, silky curls gliding through his fingers like water, or smoke.  
  
Walking to stand next to Azog Thorin looked with disgust and loathing down at the dead slaver. Raising his sword with both hands Thorin aimed for the base of Azog’s neck and let the blade descend.  
  
-  
  
Lóni would have been appalled with the security in the Keep, Thorin thought as he walked through the empty halls towards the main hall. Not only had the Viscount, the closest Kirkwall had to royalty, been without guards, Thorin had been able to walk straight to his private chambers without being stopped, and no one had managed to check on him after the explosion. Just one of these mistakes would have had Lóni crawling the walls in frustration.  
  
Thorin saw the traces of Bilbo as he walked. Every so often he would come across a fallen body, wearing the same leather armour as Azog and the others had been. It would definitely seem that Nori was right when she’d said that Bilbo could handle himself in a fight. Thorin made sure to sink his sword into the chest of every corpse he passed.  
  
When one of the men opened his eyes and gurgled as he did so Thorin almost lost the grip of his sword. He’d never killed a man before. But he had no delusions that this one did not deserve to die.  
  
Gritting his teeth Thorin sank the sword deeper into the man’s chest .  
  
Not only slavers laid dead in the halls, but guards as well. But they were not Bilbo’s work. Their bodies all bore the mark of weapons and the slavers must have killed them either on their way into the Keep or later as they had tried to reach the Viscount.  
  
When Thorin reached the stairs leading down to the courtyard at least part of the reason as to why no one had come was revealed to Thorin. The south wing of the Viscount’s Keep had been home to the Kirkwall City Guards. The barracks as well as the Captain’s office had been located there. Walking out of the Keep should have allowed him to see the Barracks to his left, but Thorin’s eyes found only rubble and dust.  
  
As he stood on the top of the stairs and tried to understand what he was seeing a guard noticed him and came towards him with her sword drawn.  
  
“Who in the blazes are you and what are you doing here?” she barked.  
  
Thorin raised his free hand and let his sword slip back into its scabbard. “I am Thorin, so- son of Thráin. I was meeting with the Viscount when the attack happened.”  
  
“The Viscount?” The guard blinked as if she had forgotten such a man existed. “Well then, where’s he?”  
  
“Dead, “Thorin said shortly. “Azog, leader of the Orcs and I would guess the one who-“  
  
“ _Dead_?” She shook her head. “Oh, fuck a duck and call it your grandma.”  
  
For a moment Thorin was confused if this was supposed to be an insult to him, but her tone seemed to indicate that she was simply shocked.  
  
“Captain Ceorl was with him,” Thorin continued. “He-“  
  
The guard raised her hand to cover her mouth. “Don’t tell me-“  
  
“He didn’t make it.”  
  
She closed her eyes and bent her head, but only for a few moments. Then she raised squared her shoulders and glared down at Thorin.

“Azog you said? And how did you manage to get away then? Slip away without anyone seeing you?”  
  
“Azog is also dead,” Thorin said shortly and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “But not in time to save the Viscount or Captain Ceorl.” He hesitated. “One of the slavers was a Mage. Now if you excuse me-”  
  
“Oh no,” she protested, grabbing his arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
Glaring up at her Thorin shook her off. “I’ve given you my name, I live in Hightown with my fa- sister. And I would not be surprised if you’ve heard more than one stupid tale about me. You know where to find me, but I will not stay here when my family and friends must wonder what’s happened to me.”  
  
“You might make a run for it,” the guards said, but Thorin could see that she was wavering.  
  
“You have better things to do than to keep me here,” Thorin pointed out and nodded to what had once been the Barracks. “You have my word I won’t leave the city.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed but finally she nodded and took a step back. “You better not run.”  
  
“I have no reason to,” Thorin said and inclined his head. The guard gave him a last searching look before nodding again and jogging down the stairs.   
  
Thorin followed, at an only slightly slower pace but instead of heading for the south wing he walked towards the nearest gate that would take him to the part of Hightown their home was located in.

The closer he got the more people filled the streets. No one paid much attention to him, except for:  
  
“Thorin!”  
  
The Dwarf raised his head and tried to see- there. He had barely enough time to brace himself before Dís flung herself into his arms, knocking them both back a few steps.  
  
“Oh by the Stone, you’re safe,” she babbled and pressed kissed to his cheeks. “Thank you, thank you.” She buried her face in his neck and squeezed him tightly. “I thought- Bilbo was home with us when we heard the explosion. He turned pale as snow and said your name and then-“ Dís lowered her voice. “He opened the door and just- disappeared.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know where he went but-.”  
  
“He saved my life,” Thorin said quietly.  
  
“Good,” Dis nodded which made her knock her forehead against Thorin’s shoulder. “It was horrible not to know where he went. It took a while to figure out that the explosion had come from the Keep, but when we did we left at once. Víli saw the smoke. I was so scared.”  
  
“We both were,” Víli said, startling Thorin slightly as he’d not seen him. The blond clasped his hand to Thorin’s shoulder. “Glad to see you safe.”  
  
“Glad to be safe,” Thorin said and tried to smile. “I’m afraid others were not as lucky.”  
  
Dís paled and glanced around them as if realising that someone was missing. “Not-“  
  
“No,” Thorin said firmly. “The Viscount, his manservant, Captain Ceorl. They were killed by the one responsible for the explosion you heard. His name was Azog and-“  
  
“Azog the slaver?” Víli exclaimed and Thorin became uncomfortable aware that the people around them were all of a sudden paying attention to their conversation.

“Yes,” Thorin agreed. “But he’s dead as well and-“  
  
“You killed the leader of the Orcs?” A thin man standing to their right asked. He was wearing clean but simple clothes and Thorin correctly assumed that he was a servant to someone living in Hightown. “Azog the Defiler?”

Thorin hesitated for a moment before nodding. He could hardly say no now. “Yes.”  
  
The people around them began to murmur amongst themselves and when he saw the awe springing into life in more than a few eyes, Thorin had the sinking feeling that Nori wouldn’t need any help spreading this particular story.


	19. Act Three

_All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another._

_~Anatole France_

 


	20. Present

“I was not aware of the Mage’s part in this incident.”  
  
“He really wanted to keep it a secret,” Ori sighed. “I think… he was afraid.”  
  
“Of being captured?”  
  
“Not exactly. Being hunted is more like it. Afraid what it might do to Nori and Thorin. Can I have more water?” Ori held the cup out to the Seeker who stood unmoving for a few moments more before sighing and taking it.  
  
“I’ve talked a lot,” Ori pointed out.   
  
“And I thank you for it,” the Seeker said as she walked over to the desk where she’d put the water skin. “It is my understanding that even without the little detail of how it had been the Mage killing everyone-“  
  
“Just the slavers,” Ori protested.  
  
“Killing the slavers,” Ioreth corrected as she handed Ori the now filled cup. “The Knight-Commander did not like what had happened in the Keep.”  
  
“You mean he did not like how someone like Thorin, who was not afraid to speak out in favour of Mages and the poor was a hero,” Ori said. “The Knight-Commander certainly made sure to benefit from what had happened, the new Captain was someone with close ties to the Chantry, and as you know, we didn’t get a new Viscount until just a month or so ago when the new Knight-Commander decided that it couldn’t very well be delayed any longer.”

Ori looked the woman straight in the eyes and tried to make her understand. “Denethor might have charged Thorin with the murders of the Viscount and Captain Ceorl if it wouldn’t have led to a rebellion. He was smart enough to figure out that there was something strange with the story Thorin told, even if he didn’t figure out just what was wrong. And while he perhaps knew that Thorin hadn't killed them, he would gladly punish Thorin for lying to him.” The Dwarf snorted. “Really, Thorin’s plans are horrible. _Horrible_. If everyone hadn’t been so distracted at the time it would never have worked. Thorin stabbed his sword in Azog’s neck, yeah?”  
  
“That’s what you told me,” the Seeker said and crossed her arms.  
  
“Right,” Ori nodded. “So how was Thorin supposed to have been able to reach Azog’s neck? Azog being close to twice as tall as Thorin.”

The Seeker stilled.   
  
“And Ceorl’s sword wasn’t even bloodied, but Thorin still tried to paint him out as having been the real hero, and the guards; those who were left, loved him for it, even if they didn’t really believe him. But they certainly didn’t think he’d have anything to do with the Orcs, and definitely wouldn’t murder someone, so if their Captain hadn't been the one to save the day that meant that Thorin must have been the one. He was a hero. They admired him. As did the people in Lowtown and Darktown.” Ori huffed. “That’s why you wanted him wasn’t it? Because he’s a hero. You respect him, don’t you?” She smiled wryly. “Or did anyway, before I told you that most of what you thought was real had never happened. Or that it was actually Bilbo who had done those things.”  
  
“I simply need to find him,” Ioreth said stiffly. “And that the Mage killed a few slavers does not change what he did later.”  
  
“How many people have been killed during the Exalted Marches?”  
  
“That’s entirely different.”  
  
“Because people were killed in the name of the Maker?” Ori shrugged. “If you say so.”  
  
“Do not forget your place, little one,” Ioreth said, her eyes narrowing.   
  
Ori gestured towards the dark room, still only illuminated mainly by the lantern which Ioreth had needed to fill with oil twice during their talk. “Trust me, that would be hard.”  
  
“The quicker you talk, the quicker you will be allowed to go.”  
  
“Speaking of, am I allowed to get out of this chair? I think my legs are about to drop off.”  
  
Ioreth reached down and pulled the dagger out of the book still lying on the floor. “Just remember that there are guards outside the door. And don’t go near the windows.”  
  
Ori gingerly got up and stretched the muscles protesting having spent hours in a chair. Because it had been hours hadn’t it? It was so hard to tell. The room was dark except for the lantern, but through the thick curtains it looked like it was still daytime outside.   
  
Dori and Dwalin had to be missing her by now and Ori grew worried that they would do something stupid. It wasn’t impossible that they would seek her here, and if they did… Ori wasn’t sure what would happen then. Smashing, probably. Which would not end well.

“Since you didn’t know the true Thorin, don’t you think that means that you didn’t know the true Bilbo either?” Ori asked as she took a couple of halting steps across the floor, away from the door as to not cause alarm. People holding daggers was best left calm.  
  
“Whatever his reasons, what he did was still wrong. It was not only morally and legally wrong, it is wrong in the eyes of the Maker.”  
  
“If your Maker hates Mages so much, why do they keep being born?”  
  
“The Maker does not hate Mages, but magic is dangerous. It corrupts. It’s a punishment,” Ioreth said. “A burden to bear for our sins. And a test. But a test we keep failing. I do not support what Knight-Commander Denethor tried to do, just as I don’t support what your friend did.”  
  
“Tried to-“ Ori stopped and turned around to glare at the Seeker. “Surely you must know that he didn’t just _try_. He- Bilbo killed people, but there are things worse than death.”  
  
“I’ve seen my share of blood magic,” Ioreth said shortly. “That is indeed worse than death.”  
  
Ori bit her tongue. “Let’s just get on with the story, shall we?  
  
“Thorin’s fame grew, as did the unrest in his heart. What he wanted more than anything was for his loved ones to be safe and happy. Dís was happy. Or as happy as she could be considering that the loss of Thráin still loomed over us all. But she had Víli and they even got married. Without officially being engaged, but no one was surprised. And Dwalin and Dori got married, and Nori and Glóin. But even though he was happy for his friends, Bilbo wasn’t happy, so Thorin couldn't be happy either. He started thinking about how they should leave Kirkwall, but Bilbo refused. And he refused even when no new Viscount came. Even when Denethor’s hunt for Mages got more intense. Things got worse and worse. And then-“ Ori swallowed. “Bluebeard came back.”


	21. Chapter Ten - Best Served Cold

“I’m going to need to move my clinic,” Bilbo said with a sigh, leaning his head against Thorin’s shoulder. They were sitting together in front of the fire in the main hall. Dís and Víli had already retired for the night and Thorin had just been about to suggest that he and Bilbo do the same thing.  
  
“It’s getting worse. I had Templars practically on my doorstep the other night.”  
  
“Templars?” Thorin’s arm tightened around Bilbo’s shoulder. “Why did you not tell me sooner.”  
  
“Because I wasn’t sure if they were looking for me or not. I am now.”  
  
“They’re hunting you?”

“They know I’m down there.” Bilbo stared into the fire, his expression tired and weary. “When I came to Kirkwall. I thought that they would leave me alone if I’d just help the poor. But no. I’ve needed to place concealment spells on the clinic. Best to move it, just in case.”  
  
“Nori said that the people of Darktown would protect you.”  
  
Bilbo shook his head. “How many would die if they tried? They are not clothed in steel, they’ve got no weapons. They have rags and sticks. I’m not going to let them die for me.”  
  
“I’ll not let –“  
  
“No,” Bilbo said firmly. “Coin can’t Denethor, and I won’t let you risk yourself. I’m only telling you because I think it would be better if we did not see each other for a while.”  
  
“Stay here with me,” Thorin suggested. “They won’t find you here.”  
  
“Did you hear what I just said?” Bilbo ducked out from beneath Thorin’s arm and got to his feet to pace the length of the room. “What if the Knight-Commander- I- Nothing can happen to you.  
  
“And I won’t let anything happen to you,” Thorin promised.  
  
“What about your family then. What about Dís? What if they realise that she’s a Mage?” To Thorin’s surprise he noticed that Bilbo’s hands were glowing slightly. “Have you noticed how many Tranquil there are in the Gallows’ courtyard lately? Every week there are new ones. People I know have passed their Harrowing.” Bilbo snorted. “The Harrowing… Such a cruel joke. Like pushing a child into water without teaching them to swim.”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Thorin got to his feet and slowly walked over to Bilbo. “I don’t know what it is. Except for a test?”   
  
“They call it a test,” Bilbo said bitterly. “They send Mages into the Fade, some of them little more than children, without telling them what to expect. And what awaits them is a demon, waiting for a chance to try and possess them. Why not _tell_ them about demons. Tell them to be cautious and teach them how to deal with it? Instead of telling them how to fear.”  
  
Bilbo shook his head and continued pacing. “Fear only makes it easier for demons to possess. And the Mages in the Gallows, in the Circles, they are surrounded by people waiting to kill them, should they ever show a sign of not being ‘normal’. Comforting, is it not?” Abruptly Bilbo stopped.  
  
“I’m sorry. I- I don’t mean to take it out on you. It’s better if I-“  
  
“No,” Thorin said, catching Bilbo’s fluttering, no longer glowing hands in his own. “You can tell me anything. Please stay. Share your thoughts with me.”

When Bilbo spoke again, his voice was thin and tense, like the string of a bow the moment before it snapped.  
  
“I hate the Chantry. And the Templars. Perhaps more than I do the Grey Wardens. They all try and control people’s lives, but at least the Wardens serve a purpose. They are a necessary evil. The Chantry and the Templars are not.”

"The average citizen sincerely believes that the Circle exists only to protect Mages and help them learn to control their abilities. The fact that they are taken from their families, that they are not allowed to have families of their own, that’s overlooked. But what they don’t know is that the Chantry needs the Mages. Especially the ones made Tranquil. Tranquils make the circles rich. They craft, they sell, all without asking for compensation. And they do it tirelessly. Blood money. It not the sole source of the Chantry’s riches but it’s an important one.”

Thorin hesitated. “I’ve a question, but I’m not sure it is possible to ask without offence.”  
  
Bilbo snorted. “If I may tell you everything then sorely you are allowed to ask anything of me.”  
  
“You say there are more Mages being made Tranquil, and if the Tranquil are the source of so many riches, why do the Chantry then not make all Mages Tranquil? I don’t suggest they should,” Thorin hastened to add. “But what is stopping them?”  
  
“No one who has passed their Harrowing are supposed to be made Tranquil. In theory anyway. Going through the Harrowing means that they are strong enough to resists possession and are in control of their magic. It was been agreed with the Grand Enchanter and the Divine that no one should be made Tranquil without ‘provocation’. But in practice this means that they can just say that the Mage asked for it, or that he or she could no longer control their magic. The first enchanter; the leader of the Circle, can protest, but who would hear him?

“The people in the Circles are often someone’s brother, sister, childhood friend, or child. Even if they rarely get to see their families not everyone will turn against a loved one just because they are revealed to be a Mage. If they would make all the Mages Tranquil, there would be an outcry. But only if they did it overtly. If people noticed. Now if anyone does, they’ll just think that their loved one failed, because as everyone knows, mages are weak. The rite is painted to be a kindness, because now they are immune to possession. They won’t ever harm someone. And never laugh, love or dream, ever again.”

“Who is responsible for this? The Knight-Commander?”  
  
“I don’t know if Denethor is involved. But I think so. Because surely he must know. But the one who has made the plan is another, one called Grima.”  
  
“One of the Templars then,” Thorin concluded.  
  
“No.” Bilbo’s voice was bitter. “One of the Mages. Which is why the Knight-Commander has to know what is going on. Alone Grima would have no tractions at all. The First Enchanter is an Elf called Elrond. I don’t think he’s involved. I’ve met him, and he does not seem to be capable of something like that. But Grima… he is betraying his own kind.”  
  
“How do you know this?”  
  
“You don’t believe me?”  
  
“I do, but how do you know? Please tell me that you’ve not been going anywhere near the Gallows.”

Bilbo looked away. “I can’t do that.”  
  
“Bilbo…”  
  
“I had to know!”  
  
“They would kill you.”  
  
“Or make me Tranquil.” Bilbo raised his chin stubbornly. “I would prefer death.”  
  
Thorin instinctively shook his head. “No, you-“  
  
“Yes!” Bilbo exclaimed. “I would. Rather than to live out the rest of my existence as a shell. I do not know what happens to someone when they are made Tranquil, but it is something other than being cut off from the Fade. You have no connection to it, you do not dream, but you are not a hollow shell playing at being a person. Something else happens. And I would prefer death over going through it.”  
  
"Mages are not better than other people, they're just people. But we are not worse either. We don't deserve to be treated as weapons, slaves or experiments. We don't deserve to die because of something we were born with. A Mage should be allowed to be a hunter, a farmer, a mother, a father. Not only a Mage."  
  
“We can make that happen.”  
  
“When did you become such an optimist?”  
  
“The day you agreed to our courtship. Then I knew anything was possible.”  
  
Bilbo sighed and leaned his forehead against Thorin’s chest. Seeing an opportunity, Thorin didn’t neglect to wrap his arms around his lover.

“Please stay,” Thorin whispered, knowing that he was selfish but also knowing that he could not help it. “Don’t leave.” Don’t leave me.  
  
Bilbo’s hands crept up and fisted into the rich fabric of Thorin’s tunic. “I’ll stay. The Gods help me, I’ll stay.”

“It would kill me to lose you,” Thorin murmured. “I’m sorry.”  
  
The noise that prompted from Bilbo was something between a giggle and a sob.  
  
“Then we are a right pair aren’t we, because I feel the same. You deserve a normal life. Without me. But I’m to selfish to want to give it to you.”  
  
Bilbo pulled back but only far enough that he could meet Thorin’s eyes. “I did not exaggerate though. If Denethor realise that I am here, and he might since it’s known that Nori has had dealings with me, and it’s known that you are friends with her, then you are all in danger. It’s illegal to hide apostate Mages.”  
  
“Since you’ve never lived in a Circle you can hardly be said to be on the run from one,” Thorin murmured. “Thank you.”  
  
“Don’t thank me,” Bilbo whispered, his hands tightening in the back of Thorin’s shirt.  
  
“I’ll thank the Ancestors then,” Thorin said and tenderly brushed Bilbo’s hair away from his face. “For leading me here to you.”   


-  
  


“You said I could tell you anything.”  
  
“You can.”  
  
“I’m going to kill Grima.”

“Bilbo-“  
  
“Not only because of his disgusting plan, or even because of the ones he has already helped make Tranquil. He is only part of the problem and removing him won’t keep them from continuing, or return those who were lost. Denethor hates Mages so he would probably have disposed of Grima sooner or later anyway. Wormtongue he calls him. But he needs to die. Because of what he does to the ones who are made Tranquil.”  
  
“Does he hurt them?” Thorin asked and Bilbo looked away.  
  
“The Tranquil will do anything you ask unless it’s a threat to their lives or well-being. Anything. They rarely oppose authority, and know no shame, no modesty.”

When Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes again his expression was grim. “I guess some wouldn’t call it rape since they’re not saying no. But some- some are barely even more than children.”  
  
Thorin’s stomach turned and he listened in horror at what Bilbo was telling him.  
  
“So I would kill him,” Bilbo said quietly. “And the Gods help me I think I would even enjoy it. Even if that makes me as bad as-“

“There is nothing evil in you,” Thorin protested. He didn’t know who Bilbo would compare himself with, but whoever it was Thorin knew there would be no truth in it.  
  
“Even though I wish to kill someone? Several someones?”  
  
Thorin thought of the cold look in the Knight-Commander’s eyes when he’d sought him out after what had happened in the Keep. Of children being taken from their mothers. Of what that man, or Grima, would do to Dís given a chance.  
  
And then Thorin thought of Bilbo working in his clinic until he could barely stand. Bilbo giving away his food to those he thought needed it better. Bilbo waking up in the morning with his hair rumpled and his eyes still closed as he arched up into Thorin’s kiss.  
  
“No,” Thorin said quietly. “Nothing evil. Not even close.”  
  
-  
  
“So where’s Bilbo tonight?” Nori asked as Thorin joined her and Ori at their usual table in the Hanged Man.  
  
“Writing,” Thorin said shortly.  
  
Nori hummed and played with the foot of her goblet. “Writing.”  
  
“Writing,” Thorin repeated. “Words on a piece of paper.”  
  
“Funny,” Nori said drily. “Are you sure that’s what he’s doing?”  
  
Thorin stared incredulously at Nori. “Are you suggesting that he would lie to me?”  
  
“I’m at least suggesting that he would lie to me, and to Ori,” Nori said and nodded at her sister who bit her lip and looked down at the table.  
  
“Bilbo wouldn’t lie.”  
  
“But he did,” Nori said matter-of-factly. “He has. Not without reason, at least from his point of view, but still.”

“What do you think he has lied about then?” Thorin said and stole Nori’s ale. He had a feeling that he was about to need it.

Nori leaned forward and when she spoke it was just barely loud enough for Thorin to hear above the noise of the other guests at the tavern.  
  
“He has been helping Mages escape from Kirkwall.”  
  
“He-“ Thorin blinked. “ _What_?”

“Not so loud, you idiot,” Nori hissed. “Don’t make people pay attention to us.”  
  
Thorin took a deep chug from the goblet. “I knew he had been going to the Gallows but-“  
  
“You knew about that?” Nori looked affronted. “He didn’t tell me about that.”  
  
“But apparently you know anyway,” Thorin mused and took another swallow of the bittersweet ale. “Funny that.”  
  
“I’m only looking out for him,” Nori said and took her goblet back. “The Stone knows he’s not capable of doing it himself.”  
  
That Thorin could not argue.  
  
“It’s not the Mages from the Gallows,” Ori explained, nudging her own goblet across the table to Thorin and he gratefully accepted it. “He can’t. They could track them via their phylacteries.”  
  
Thorin gave her an uncomprehending look which Ori returned.  
  
“He doesn’t know what that is,” Nori said with a sigh. “How by the Stone don’t you know about that? No don’t tell me, I guess it’s just not the sort of thing to pop up in a normal conversation.”  
  
“So what is this… phylactery?”  
  
Ori leaned in closer. “When Mages are taken to the Circle some of their essence is taken and stored in a small glass vial. The essence will glow brighter the closer it gets to the Mage it was taken from.”  
  
“And this essence?”  
  
Nori reached over and whacked him on the shoulder. “You’re going to love this one. It’s blood. The Templars are basically using blood magic to track down any escaped Mages.”  
  
“That’s-“ Thorin was speechless.   
  
“Indeed,” Nori said and leaned back in her chair again. “I’m surprised Bilbo hasn’t told you. Then again, he doesn’t have one since he’s never been taken to a Circle.”  
  
“Right,” Thorin said and tried to digest what he had just been told. “So if not the Mages from the Gallows, who has he been helping leave Kirkwall?”  
  
“Apostates from other Circles. Run far enough and you’ll be impossible to track. And also the little ones, children who have just been found to be Mages and their families. Many ships leave Kirkwall, too many for the Templars to search them all.”  
  
“And how do you know this?” Thorin asked tiredly.  
  
“Because both Ori and I have been wanting to speak with Bilbo and gone looking for him in the places he’s supposed to be in. Only to find those places empty. The third time this happened, I followed him.” Nori snorted. ”Or I tried. Bloody hard following someone invisible, let me tell you that. But eventually I-”  
  
“Stop.” Thorin held up his hand. “How long has this been going on and why didn’t you just ask Bilbo about it?”  

“About a month and do you think I’m stupid?” Nori rested her elbows on the table and looked sternly at Thorin. “If someone is sneaking around you can’t just ask them what they’re doing. You’re not likely to get a straight answer.”  
  
“So Bilbo lies to you and you decide that means you need to spy on him?” Ignoring Nori’s protest he took her goblet and pulled the contents into the one Ori had given him. “The Ancestors help Glóin.”  
  
“Hey,” Nori protested. “That’s-“  
  
They all jumped when Beorn banged a tray with goblets down at their table.  
  
“Stop stealing each other’s drinks,” he told them and collected Ori’s empty one in return for three full goblets. “And put that away,” he told Nori who sheepishly put away the knife that seemed to have manifested in her hand.   
  
“Sorry,” she said, smiling up at Beorn. The big man grunted in reply and left.  
  
“I’ll talk to Bilbo,” Thorin said. “I assume that’s why you’ve told me this?”  
  
“Don’t you think you ought to know what he-“  
  
“I should know what he desires to _share_ with me,” Thorin said pointedly. “I can’t say I’m pleased at the thought of him doing something so dangerous. Far from it. And I can’t say I’m pleased that he didn’t tell me. But spying on him is hardly the way to go about things.”  
  
“Fairly effective though, I would say,” Nori sniffed and leaned back in her chair.

“Do you want anyone to spy on you?” Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Unless the answer to that question is yes, do you really think you should do it?”  
  
“Oh, stop that,” Nori grumbled. “You sound like you’re ancient. You’re barely older than I am.”  
  
“That means that she knows you’re right,” Ori whispered, not very discreetly at all.  
  
“Oh shut up.” Nori slung her arm over Ori’s shoulder and pulled her to her side. “What do you know anyway.”  
  
“More than you,” Ori said primly, and Nori groaned exaggeratedly when Ori’s sharp elbow found her ribs.  
  
“Why did you tell me, instead of going to Bilbo once you knew,” Thorin asked later, while Ori had run to pay for their drinks.  
  
“Because Bilbo might be able to lie to you, but he can’t _lie_ to you.”  
  
“How much have you had to drink?” Thorin asked suspiciously.   
  
“Not enough,” Nori lamented. “What I mean is that if you ask him something, straight out, he will tell you. I’m his friend, but you’re his lover. There’re things I’d tell Glóin but I wouldn’t tell you or Bilbo.”

“You tell me far too much,” Thorin muttered. “Considering what I know about your kitchen table.”  
  
“That’s not remotely the same thing,” Nori smirked. “Considering I don’t need to tell Glóin about it at all.”  
  
“Tell Glóin about what?” Ori asked as she joined them. “Nori, give me my cloak, please.”  
  
“Don’t ask,” Thorin sighed. “Want to come back to the estate? Dís made pie earlier today. We can stop by and bring Glóin along.”  
  
“And have him eat all the pie?” Nori protested. “I think not.”  
  
As they walked out of the tavern into the Kirkwall night Nori bumped Thorin with her hip.

“Lead on, Champion!”

“Don't call me that,” Thorin grumbled, and he didn’t bother holding back when he bumped Nori in turn. Stumbling to the side she laughed and tossed her braided hair over her shoulder.

“But it sounds so _valiant_. I wish I had come up with it."

“It's even worse than Oakenshield.”

“You're never happy. He's never happy,” Nori told her sister.

Ori patted Thorin’s arm. “Sure he is. Nori, don't-"

All three of them turned their head as they heard a familiar laugh from an alley. Familiar to Thorin and Nori at least, and Nori in particular. Ori had never had much to do with-

" _Bluebeard_ ,” Nori growled. “I can’t believe it. But I’d know that cackle anywhere.”

The laugh stopped abruptly and as Nori pulled a knife from her boot a shape extricated itself from the shadows in the alley. It was Bluebeard all right. But he had changed since Thorin last saw him. He was not only thinner but actually thin, and his clothes were worn and dirty.   
  
“Where have you been?” Nori demanded as she let the knife wander between her hands. “It’s almost been a year.”  
  
"I knew we'd find her!” Bluebeard grinned and showed that he’d lost a few teeth since the Deep Roads expedition. “Outside the tavern, yes!"  
  
Nori swore and passed Ori her knife, fishing up to other ones from her boots. “He’s gone insane. Or more insane, depending on how you look at it.”  
  
Thorin eyed the dirty, bedraggled Dwarf cautiously. He didn’t look to be armed, but he did look to be more than a little unbalanced. The look in his eyes… No, Thorin did not like it one bit.  
  
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Bluebeard told Nori almost accusatorily. “You _shine_. You didn’t fucking shine before.”  
  
Fine, he was crazy. Thorin reached out his hand for one of Nori’s blades and she huffed but gave him one.  
  
“Sword, bring it will you?”  
  
“Forgive me if I didn’t think it was necessary to go armed just because you wanted to go drinking.”  
  
“All sorts of shadowy figures about,” Nori said, not taking her eyes off Bluebeard. “Don’t come closer, Bluebeard."  
  
“But I need to have it back!” Bluebeard’s face crumbed. “I can’t hear it anymore. The song. I need it.”  
  
Nori looked disbelievingly at her old partner as he sank down on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “By the Stone, what happened to you?”

“Yes, the stone!” Bluebeard raised his head and nodded. “The stone of stones, and bones and moans. The _Arkenstone_.”   
  
“The Arkenstone?” Ori echoed, prompting Bluebeard’s attention and Nori pulled her sister behind herself.  
  
“It sang to me,” Bluebeard said sadly. “Why did you take it from me? It was mine. I need it.”

“He means the stone we found in the Deep Roads,” Thorin said.  
  
“No, really?” Nori snorted. “Bluebeard, I didn’t take the damn thing from you. _You_ took it, and left us to die! Does this sound familiar?” She twirled the knife in her hand. “If you didn’t look so pathetic you’d already be dead.”  
  
“I know it was you. Even if it wasn’t you, it was you. You are the _thief_.” With a sob Bluebeard covered his face again. “I shouldn’t have sold it.”  
  
“Bloody- If you sold it then why do you think _I_ took it?” Nori shook her head. “Unbelievable.”  
  
“I can’t have sold it,” Bluebeard protested. “Why would I sell it? It sang to me. The most beautiful thing I’ve heard. The others heard it too. And they _all_ wanted it.” Without removing his hands from his face the Dwarf peered through his splayed fingers. “They got what they deserved.”  
  
Nori hadn’t managed to track down even a single member of Bluebeard’s crew. Thorin frowned and made sure Ori was safely behind both him and Nori.  
  
“Bluebeard, what did you do?” Nori asked, disbelief and something like horror creeping into her voice.  
  
“They wanted it. I couldn’t let them have it.” Bluebeard sounded affronted. “If you take something from me, I take something from you. And my stone… was _everything_.”  
  
“Right, that’s enough.” Nori straightened. “Ori, run back to Beorn. Tell him what’s going on.”  
  
“No,” Ori protested. “I’m not about to leave you and Thorin.”  
  
“We can handle this one,” Nori said. “But just in case, I want you safe. Please?”  
  
“No,” Ori said mulishly.

“We will have words,” Nori said darkly. “Later. Stay behind me then.”

“I want my stone, my precious, precious stone,” Bluebeard whined. “He took it.”  
  
“Bloody well make up your mind,” Nori huffed.  
  
None of them were prepared when Bluebeard, fast as a viper, drew back his arm and threw something towards Nori, scrambling to his feet as he did so.  
  
Nori dodged, throwing a knife at Bluebeard in return. At that moment both she and Thorin turned when Ori cried out in pain.  
  
“Ori,” Nori gasped seeing Ori clutched at her neck., her knife having fallen to the ground. She had not managed to duck in time so instead of hitting Nori, what Bluebeard had thrown had just hit her sister instead.  
  
“Just a stone, ‘m all right.” Ori winced, then her eyes widened. “He’s getting away!”

Taking advantage of their distraction Bluebeard dashed into the same alley he’d come from. “It’s _mine_! I’ll have it back! He had no right!”  
  
Nori threw another knife, cursing when Bluebeard managed to move out of the way. Cursing again she ran after him.  
  
Thorin, torn between following Nori and not wanting to leave Ori on her own decided to stay. Nori was more than capable of taking care of herself. Even if Bluebeard was crazy.  
  
“Let me see your neck,” Thorin demanded, tucking his knife into his belt and moving Ori so the light from a nearby torch fell on her.  
  
“It’s just a scratch, if that.” Ori slapped his hands away. “I was just surprised. Go. Help Nori.”  
  
“No need.” Slipping out of the shadows Nori joined them. Her expression was grim. “I don’t know how, but he managed to get away. Albeit with one of my knives in his shoulder. Small comfort.” Nori sighed. “I need to get back to the Hanged Man. Need to let people know they ought to keep an eye out. I’ll not have him in Kirkwall. Not after what he did.”  
  
“Do you really think he killed his crew?” Ori asked with a small voice. “All of them?”  
  
“How can he be that good of a fighter?” Thorin shook his head. “Together they could have-“  
  
“You’re assuming he fights fair.” Nori shook her head, making her braids fly. “He could have done it while they slept. Quietly. But he had to have moved the bodies then or we’d seen them when we went back for the treasure.”  
  
“I don’t want pie anymore,” Ori said and leaned into Nori’s side. “Can I stay with you tonight?”  
  
“I can stop by Dwalin and Dori on my way home, to tell them,” Thorin offered and Ori gave him a thankful smile. “But I’m going to see you safely home first.”  
  
“Insinuating that we can’t take care of ourselves?” Nori said with a half-hearted attempt at sounding annoyed. “Fine. But no waking Glóin, I’ll tell him in the morning.”  
  
Thorin and Ori waited outside as Nori popped back into the Hanged Man, Thorin making sure that the scratch on Ori’s neck was just that.  
  
“Told you it was fine,” Ori huffed after Thorin had proclaimed that she would live. The stone must have had a sharp edge because it had broken the skin, but only barely, and despite the spot being tender to the touch Ori didn’t seem overly troubled by it. “I wonder where he lost the stone. Bilbo would want to know.”  
  
“Bilbo wants the stone?” Thorin frowned. “He’s not said.”  
  
“He talked about it after the second time we got back from the Deep Roads,” Ori explained. “Quite a lot.”  
  
Ah. That was when he was still avoiding Thorin as if one of them had the plague.   
  
“He didn’t really explain why, but…” Ori shrugged and even though they were the only people on the street she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice. “Magic I guess.”  
  
Right. It would seem that there was more than one conversation Thorin needed to have with Bilbo.  
  
“I hate owing people favours,” Nori said sourly as she walked out of the tavern. “Thorin, don’t eat all the pie by yourself. I want some tomorrow. I deserve some.”  
  
“No promises there’ll be any left if Bilbo is around,” Thorin said mildly.

“He’s using being a Grey Warden as an excuse to eat all my favourite foods before I can do it,” Nori whined. “I’d think it a conspiracy but I think you have to be more than one to form a conspiracy.”  
  
They started to walk to Glóin’s and Nori’s home, the latter muttering beneath her breath all the while.  
  
“You’ll find Bluebeard,” Ori said loyally. “If he’s in Kirkwall you’ll find him.”  
  
“Please tell that to Dori when she sees your neck. And try to sound even more certain.” Nori gave her sister a crooked smile. “Sorry, lil’ sis.”  
  
“Not so little,” Ori protested and straightened up to her full height, which made the top of her head just about reach Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin wisely chose not to comment.  
  
Stopping outside Glóin’s house Ori gave Thorin a hug, slapping his hand away when he tried to take another look at her neck.  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
“We’ll bandage it before we go to bed,” Nori promised.  
  
“Bandage- but it’s _fine_! It’s not even bleeding.”  
  
“Clean it then.”  
  
“That’ll sting…”  
  
“Suck it up.”  
  
Thorin snorted. “I’ll leave you to it.”  
  
When he tried to give her knife back Nori shook her head. “Keep it. Just in case. Pretend it’s a sword if it makes you feel better. A big one, very useful to overcompensate for certain things.”  
  
Thorin raised an eyebrow.  
  
“You know what I mean,” Nori mean. “Don’t try and pretend you don’t. And you never told me, is the size of Bilbo’s boots a sign of-“  
  
“Good night,” Thorin said pointedly and began to walk towards the gate that would take him to Dwalin’s and Dori’s home.  
  
“G’night!” Ori called.  
  
“Don’t eat all the pie!”  
  
Thorin snorted, but didn’t reply.   
  
He hadn’t even gotten to the end of the street when he heard a scream. Ori's.  
  
Eyes wide Thorin spun around and started running back to the house. The front door was closed and Thorin prayed that neither of the girls would have locked it as he reached for the door knob. It wasn’t locked and Thorin wrenched it open with enough force the bounce the door on the house wall behind it.  
  
No candle burnt in the hall, but in the light coming from the kitchen Thorin could see that a small table had been knocked to the ground and the dresser had been moved from its usual spot. And someone had also taken a knife to the picture of a Dragon that had hung over the dresser.  
  
“Nori, Ori?! Glóin!”  
  
Not getting any reply Thorin moved into the kitchen, but it was empty and for a moment Thorin stood indecisive, not knowing if he should continue into the sitting room or go upstairs. But the sound of Nori yelling made him turn on his heels and run up the stairs.  
  
Racing down the hallway Thorin didn’t bother looking into any of the rooms. He could see light coming from the end of the hallway, from Glóin’s and Nori’s room.  
  
Walking into the room, Thorin stopped as suddenly as if he’d walked into a wall of glass. In one corner of the room, in front of the large wooden wardrobe, lay the crumpled form of Bluebeard; two of Nori’s knives sticking out of his chest. In the opposite one, almost directly to Thorin’s left as he stood just in front of the door, his eyes found Nori and Ori kneeling beside Glóin. Glóin’s body. Ori lifted her head from where she’d held it pressed to one of Glóin’s hands, and as she moved out of the way Thorin saw the mess of red that was Glóin’s chest. Nori had her head tucked into his neck and she was so still that Thorin’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if she was also…  
  
“Thorin,” Ori hiccupped, tears streaming down her face. “Thorin, Glóin… He’s-“  
  
“Don’t say it,” Nori said fiercely, snapping her head up to glare at her sister. “Don’t fucking say it.”  
  
Nori had no sooner finished speaking before a soft moan seemed to echo in the room. Thorin took a step towards his friends. Another. “He’s-“  
  
“Bluebeard,” Nori growled, and Thorin realised that the moan had not come from Glóin but from the one who could only be his killer.

Her face blank Nori got up and calmly walked over to the fallen body of her once-partner.  
  
“Told you. I take- something, from you,” Bluebeard burbled, as Nori came closer. He grinned and blood stained his lips and teeth red. Each breath was strained and laboured and when Nori reached out to pull one of the knives out of his chest he barely even flinched. Nor did he try to get away when she slit his throat, her face still a blank mask, like that of a doll.  
  
Bluebeard gurgled and blood sprayed from the crimson gap in his neck as Nori rose to her feet and let the knife fall to the floor. Looking straight ahead she walked towards the doorway, but before she could leave the room Thorin grabbed her arm. The reaction was immediate and she twisted like an angry cat in his grasp.  
  
“Let go of me,” Nori hissed, trying to pull away but Thorin didn’t release her.  
  
“Nori…”  
  
“I said, let _go_.”   
  
Thorin froze as the sharp tip of a small dagger bit into his hand. Nori had had it tucked away in her hair.  
  
“Nori,” Ori sniffed. “Nori-“  
  
“Let go,” Nori snarled, and Thorin relaxed his grip. She immediately sprinted towards the door and Thorin could hear her steps as she ran down the hallway.

“We found him like this,” Ori said and Thorin turned towards her. The redhead’s face was pale, and her cheeks wet. She started to say something but choked on a sob. “We- he was still alive though. But- he- he-“  
  
“Ori,” Thorin said softly. “You don’t have to-“  
  
“It was like he was waiting,” Ori sniffed. “Nori understood right away- when she saw the mess in the downstairs hall. She ran upstairs and I followed. Bluebeard- he just sat in a corner. Mumbling. He didn’t look up. Not even when Nori threw the knives at him. But Glóin- he-“  
  
Sinking down beside her Thorin wrapped his arms around her narrow frame and tucked her against his chest. Ori fisted her hands in the back of Thorin’s cloak and hid her face against it. “He- he- opened his- his eyes when Nori said his name.” Ori started to shake and Thorin stroked her hair and tried to force his eyes away from Glóin’s body. His friend was only wearing a pair of cotton breeches and his chest… Bluebeard must have stabbed him a least a dozen times.  
  
“He- He smiled. And told her that he loved her. And then-“ Ori’s voice cracked and she pressed closer to Thorin, her tears wetting the front of his shirt.  
  
“Shhh.” Thorin gently rocked her. He so badly wanted to tell her that things were all right. Or that they would at least be all right. But he couldn’t.  
  
Ori didn’t protest as Thorin gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs. She only seemed to come back to herself just as they were about to leave the house.  
  
“We can’t leave him,” she objected and Thorin hushed her again and stroked what he could reach of her arm.   
  
“I’ll come back,” he promised. “But we’re going to Dori now.” It would be quicker than taking Ori to the estate.   
  
“Dori,” Ori mumbled and a single tear ran down her face. “I want Dori.”  
  
Thorin nodded. “I’ll take you to her. And then I’ll come back here.” He hated the thought of leaving Glóin on the floor like that, in the same room as his killer, but Ori was more important.  
  
\-   
  
He had to wake them by banging on the door and it was a deeply grumpy Dwalin who finally opened it. But the large Dwarf only had to take one look at them for his expression to melt into concern.  
  
“What’s happened?” he asked as he stepped aside to allow Thorin to go inside, Ori still in his arms. “Ori?”  
  
Thorin had no idea what to say. Or, he had no idea how to say it in a way that would make things better. Nothing could make things better. Standing in the middle of the hallway, Ori refusing to be put down, Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.   
  
“Glóin is dead.”  
  
The silence following his words was the loudest thing Thorin had ever heard.  


-  
  
Dwalin followed Thorin back to the house, neither of them saying a word as they walked, and together they wrapped Glóin up in the blankets from the bed and carried him downstairs.

“He was the last of my kin,” Dwalin said quietly. “And now he’s gone.”  
  
Thorin clasped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed it.  
  
“Another senseless death.” Dwalin clenched his jaw. “Óin, Balin, your brother, your father. If I didn’t know better I would think we’ve been cursed.”  
  
“All death is senseless,” Thorin murmured. “And the world does not need curses to be cruel.”  
  
“What’s the damned point then? Why should we bother?”  
  
“Because-“ Thorin tried to find the right words. He’d never heard Dwalin sound so defeated. “Because of Dori and Bilbo. Because of Dís and Víli and Nori and Ori. Because there is still happiness.”  
  
“Which never lasts.”  
  
“No,” Thorin agreed. “But neither does grief.”  
  
Dwalin shook his head. “We should find Nori,” he said, changing the subject.  
  
“We won’t find her unless she wants to be found,” Thorin said tiredly. “Take Glóin. I’ll- I’ll- get rid of Bluebeard’s body and tell the guards what has happened.” They had been a lot friendlier to him after what had happened in the Keep, and hopefully the one in charge at the moment would agree that any questions could wait until the morning.  
  
If Nori came back here he didn’t want her to need to see Bluebeard in the bedroom she’d shared with Glóin. But hopefully she would go straight to Dori. She had to know that Thorin would take Ori there.  
  
Hopefully she’d be there when Dwalin returned.  
  
“See you in the morning,” Thorin said to his friend and clasped his shoulder again before beginning to walk up the stairs that would take him to Hightown.  


-  
  
After what felt like hours later Thorin stumbled into the estate. His mind was blank, but at the same time filled with a loud buzzing sound, like a beehive had formed between his ears. Shrugging out of his cloak Thorin hung it neatly on its hook. Then he changed his mind and grabbed it, letting it fall to the floor. This was not a night suited for neat and tidy things.  
  
Carefully, Thorin opened the door to Dís’ and Víli’s bedroom and found the two curled around each other in the bed, sheets creased and their hair; shadow and light, tangled up together.  
  
Just as carefully as he’d opened the door Thorin closed it again. He should wake them, tell them, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  
  
Instead he walked upstairs, undressed; letting the clothes fall wherever they pleased and crawled into the empty bed. Whatever Bilbo was doing he was doing it somewhere else.  
  
Thorin closed his eyes.  
  
-  
  
And after what felt like merely seconds he opened them again. The greyish pink light of dawn was just visible behind the curtains and the reason for why Thorin hard been so abruptly pulled from the clutches of sleep was clearly outlined against it.  
  
“Nori,” Thorin said thickly, sitting up. “Nori, you- we-“  
  
“I’m leaving,” Nori said, her shoulder’s hunched. “I can’t stay here.”  
  
“Leave?”   
  
Nori didn’t moved as Thorin got out of bed and slowly approached her. Her face was dirty, except for the places where tears had made tracks down her cheeks, revealing pale skin and the swirl of her tattoos.   
  
“I can’t… stay here,” Nori said haltingly. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”  
  
“Your sisters-“  
  
“My _husband_ ,” Nori spat, grief turning into anger. “My husband was killed. With one of my own knives. Because I didn’t killed Bluebeard first.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.”  
  
Nori snorted and turned away to face the window. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m not.”  
  
Thorin reached for her, but Nori ducked away from his touch and Thorin clenched his fist and let it come to rest at his side.   
  
“Where will you go?”  
  
“The Dalish.” Nori shrugged. “If I can find them.” She turned to face Thorin again and bit her lip. “I’ll come back. When- when it doesn’t hurt.”

Thorin chuckled mirthlessly. “That’s a long time.”  
  
“Take care of them for me. Promise.”  
  
“Like they were my own sisters.” Thorin tried to take Nori’s hand but she pulled away again. “Will you say goodbye to them?”  
  
“No. No, I can’t. Tell them- tell them I’ll come back.”  
  
“They’ll be worried. And they’ll miss you.“ Thorin thought about telling her that Frerin’s death still hurt. Not as much. But like a bruise you almost had forgotten and then you knocked it against something and the dull ache was all you could think about for a while.”   
  
“It’ll be worse if I stay.” Nori turned away again, looking at the window and the veiled world outside. “Take care of them.”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“And Bilbo and Dís and Víli too. And Dwalin. Bilbo… don’t let him do anything stupid.”  
  
“I’ll talk to him about what you told me,” Thorin promised. He was shocked to realise that only hours had passed since they sat together in the Hanged Man and discussed Bilbo helping Mages escape Kirkwall. It felt like years.  
  
“Good,” Nori said and straightened and squared her shoulders. “And take care of yourself too.”  
  
“Will you promise the same thing?”   
  
“I’ll- do my best.” Nori reached up to pull at her braid but froze and Thorin remembered that Glóin had often done the same thing as a playful way of getting her attention. “Just- I can’t be here, Thorin. Everything in Kirkwall, everything I am here, that’s Glóin’s. And it _hurts_. It’s-“ her calm mask cracked further and then fell into pieces. “I can hardly even _breathe_.”  
  
Thorin nodded slowly. “We’ll be here when you come back.”  
  
Nori looked down and the locks of hair that had escaped her braid tumbled forward to hide her from Thorin. When she turned her face back up again she was calm and collected once more. “You should go to bed again.”  
  
“If you need anything from your home-“ Thorin could imagine that she didn’t want to go inside, and intended to offer to go for her, but he’d not expect her to snort almost disdainfully before he’d even finished speaking.  
  
“That’s not my home.” Nori’s head was held high, her chin stubbornly raised. “Glóin was. And now, he’s gone. The house may burn for all I care.” She paused. “I think I would even like it, if it did.”

With that remark still hanging in the air Nori walked around Thorin and towards the door.  
  
“Be safe,” Thorin said as she opened it.  
  
There was no reply, and he didn’t hear her footsteps but when he turned around she was gone.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tranquil](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Tranquil)


	22. Chapter Eleven - The Storm and what Came Before It

“I _have_ to do this.”  
  
“I’m not-“ Thorin ran a hand through his hair. “Bilbo, I’m not trying to forbid you. I understand how important it is. But please think.”  
  
Bilbo snorted and shook his head. “I’ve thought about it plenty. I need to get those people out of the Circle. Before it’s too late.”  
  
“You told me yourself that you, if Denethor knew about Mages leaving Kirkwall, he-“  
  
“He can’t be everywhere at once, and neither can the other Templars.” Bilbo reached out and took Thorin’s left hand in both of his. “As many Mages as possible need to get away from the Gallows and Grima needs to die.”

Thorin looked down at their hands; Bilbo’s looked much too small and defenceless for its owner to be talking about killing, about murder. But Thorin had seen Bilbo kill already, and was there really any difference between slavers and what this Grima was doing?

“I assume you’re going to destroy their phylacteries,” Thorin said as evenly as he could. “The Templars will be more on their guard than ever and you’re going into the Gallows not just to help as many as possible to escape, you’re also going to kill someone, and I’m assuming they are not keeping the phylacteries in the main hall?”  
  
It was possible that Thorin’s disquiet about Bilbo killing someone was audible in his voice, because ignoring Thorin’s other two points Bilbo jumped on the subject of the Grima. “If anyone has ever deserved to die for-“  
  
“Bilbo.” Thorin cupped his lover’s cheek with his free hand. “I’m not trying to argue, or fight with you about this. But it’ll be incredibly dangerous.”

“What isn’t dangerous?” Bilbo asked, hazel eyes looking unwaveringly into Thorin’s. “Since the Viscount died Denethor has been the ruling power in Kirkwall, and it’s become all too clear that Denethor is _insane_. Maybe he’s always been, or maybe it’s just obvious now when no one is left to oppose him. The new guard captain can’t even-”  
  
“And what do you think will happen once Denethor realises that so many Mages have escaped?” Thorin brushed his thumb along Bilbo’s cheek. “If he’s looking for excuses this will be just what he needs. He might kill anyone still left.”  
  
“If he’s looking for excuses to kill or turn all the Mages Tranquil he will find them sooner or later,” Bilbo said and squeezed Thorin’s hand which he still held in his. “I-“ Bilbo paused and Thorin was struck with a powerful sense of dread. The expression on Bilbo’s face made it all too clear that he knew Thorin wouldn’t like what he had to say.  
  
“What?” Thorin demanded.  
  
“I went to the Chantry to talk to the Grand Cleric.”  
  
“You went to-“ Thorin’s eyes widened. “By the Stone, what possessed you to do that? Talk to her? It’s the Chantry! There are Templars coming and going-”  
  
“I made sure she was alone. I wanted her to put a stop to what is happening.” Bilbo’s eyes hardened. “But she wouldn’t. She claimed that it was not her place to get involved, to take sides. She would not believe what I told her about the Tranquil Solution.   
  
“She is the one who once appointed Denethor to Knight-Commander. She can get rid of him. But she won’t.”  
  
Thorin sighed and let his hand fall from Bilbo’s face with a last caress. “I can’t believe that I’m about to say this, but what if we kill Denethor?”  
  
“We?”  
  
“Whatever you do,” Thorin said quietly. “I will be right there with you. If we are to burn, we will burn together.” A small smile flashed over his face and Thorin leaned forward to press a kiss to Bilbo’s nose. “Without you my world is ash anyway.”  
  
“It’s not your fight,” Bilbo said, letting Thorin’s hand go and taking a step back. “You-“  
  
“It’s everyone’s fight,” Thorin said firmly. “So tell me. What if Denethor dies instead of Grima? Or both of them.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Bilbo said helplessly. “And I don’t even know if I could do it. If he saw me coming he could block my magic, render me helpless. He would not even need to see me. If I’m invisible… He’s been a Templar a long time. He might be sensitive enough to sense that magic is being used nearby and-“  
  
“And you know that and you still want to sneak into the Circle.” Thorin bit his tongue to try and keep himself from saying something he would rather regret. “You-“  
  
“He won’t be there,” Bilbo protested. “He never goes inside the Gallows. Which is a shame because inside he would probably not sense me. The very walls of the Gallows are soaked in magic. And despair.”  
  
“I could kill him,” Thorin stated. “He won’t sense steel coming his way.”  
  
“You won’t get the chance,” Bilbo said and grabbed Thorin’s arm. “And promise me that you won’t try. He never goes anywhere alone, there are always three four Templars following him around. Not only would either one of them be able to block my magic, you can’t fight five against one. Also-“ Bilbo looked down at his boots and then up again.

“The worst case scenario is that Denethor dies and that’s enough to push the Grand Cleric to act _against_ Mages. When I talked to her she did not seem unsympathetic to me and the people trapped in the Circle. This might change if he is killed. She might be opposed to me freeing them, but then they will be free, free of her potential actions as well.”

“And what do you think would happen?”  
  
“Right of annulment,” Bilbo said quietly. “Or perhaps an Exalted March on Kirkwall. But if we get all the Mages out of the city fast enough no one will ever find them. They’ll be safe.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it be safer to leave Grima alive, at least for the time being? Killing him-“

"A friend once said,” Bilbo murmured. “That true courage is not about knowing when to take a life, but when to spare one. I think I believed this once, but the more time that has passed, the more wrong I think he is. The coward does nothing, and hopes that it will work out anyway.”  
  
Thorin sighed. “Like the Grand Cleric.”  
  
“Like the Grand Cleric,” Bilbo agreed. “If I don’t kill Grima when I get the Mages out I won’t be able to. I’m sure they’ll never give me another chance to get inside the Gallows.”  
  
Thorin reached out and gathered Bilbo close, resting his chin on the crown of honey-gold curls. Bilbo remained stiff in his arms for a moment before relaxing and fitting himself snugly to Thorin’s front.  
  
“If I asked you, would you not go through with this?”  
  
Bilbo was silent for a long moment before speaking.

“No. I’m sorry.”  
  
Thorin closed his eyes. “Then I will go along with whatever you decide, but you are _not_ doing this alone. Let me help. Tell me exactly what you have planned.”  
  
“And you won’t stop me?”  
  
“I swear.” Thorin stroked his hand down the line of Bilbo’s back. “If it’s a really stupid plan we’ll think of something else.”  
  
Bilbo’s arms tightened around Thorin’s waist. “I never have stupid plans, unlike some I could mention.”  
  
“I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to,” Thorin said archly.   
  
“You’ve already forgotten such memorable plans like making love on furs in front of the fireplace?”  
  
“Only one fur damaged before you put the fire out,” Thorin protested.   
  
Secretly he was relieved that Bilbo was now teasing him. He leaned down to brush his lips against Bilbo’s forehead. “I meant what I said. Whatever happens, my place is with you. Tell me what you plan to do.”  
  
“I won’t risk you,” Bilbo said, his voice slightly muffled as he hid his face in Thorin’s shirt.  
  
“Then your plan better not be stupid.”  
  
.  
  
Thorin did _not_ like the plan, but he couldn’t really call it stupid, and as such, they would move forward with it. Bilbo was afraid that if they waited it would be too late.  
  
It would begin with Bilbo going inside the Gallows where he would be aided by First Enchanter Elrond and - of all people – a Templar who claimed to be their ally. Thorin was immediately suspicious of this but Bilbo promised that this Bard person could be trusted, that he’d defended Mages before.  
  
“He’s one of the few who is not blinded by fear of magic.” Bilbo shook his head. “You have to give it to Denethor, he is good at what he does. I believe we won’t get all the Mages in the Circle to leave it. Some are now too afraid of themselves to imagine a life away from the Templars. They only feel safe around their executioners.”  
  
While Bilbo was inside, having entered through a series of tunnels running beneath the Gallows-  
  
“Darktown reaches everywhere in Kirkwall, even beneath such places as the Gallows. Or even the Chantry.”  
  
\- and doing what needed to be done, Thorin would wait outside for the Mages, together with Beorn.  
  
“Beorn?” Thorin frowned. “Surely there are better choices of-“  
  
“Beorn is a Mage,” Bilbo explained with a small smile, one that widened as Thorin’s jaw literally dropped in a most undignified manner.  
  
“You are joking?”  
  
Bilbo shook his head. “He is, and he will be leaving with the Circle Mages. He’s been in Kirkwall longer than I have, and never during that time has he used his magic. I don’t know how he’s managed that. It’s- magic is a part of us. Not using it would be like not using an arm, or a leg, or an eye. But he tells me that he has not used it as to not be discovered and I believe him. Now though, he is leaving. He’ll take all who wishes to join him across the Wounded Coast and to safety. Those who won’t want to do this you will need to get down to the docks.”  
  
Before the docks there would be changes of clothes; sailors could not always be said to be the brightest people in existence, but most of them would understand that there was something strange going on if a group of pale-skinned people all wearing robes showed up. Even in normal clothes they would probably seem a little strange, but money could why silence as well as passage to somewhere as far away from Kirkwall as wished.

While this happened Bilbo would still be inside the Gallows, together with the Templar Bard. They would destroy the phylacteries and - even if neither the First Enchanter nor the Templar would know of this – Bilbo would kill Grima.

Thorin was moderately alright with the first parts of the plan, but everything inside him wanted to rage at the idea that Bilbo would stay in the that terrible place as others left it. When – because it was a when and not an if – _when_ someone discovered that close to all Mages were missing, what then?  
  
“Then I will make sure no one sees us,” Bilbo promised. “We’ll destroy the phylacteries first, Bard knows where they are kept and he even has the keys. They’ll be destroyed before anyone even knows that they should be used. Except Grima’s. That one I need.”  
  
Bilbo would then put Bard to sleep, and lock him up, all to allay any suspicions that he had been part of the attempt to free the Mages.  
  
“Surely it would be safer for him to escape as well?” Thorin asked. “If Denethor is as unbalanced as you think-“  
  
“He has a family here in Kirkwall.”  
  
Thorin’s jaw again threatened to approach the floor. “A family.”  
  
“Wife, three children.” Bilbo leaned his head against Thorin’s shoulder. “While Mages are not even supposed to tumble each other, much less fall in love, it’s not forbidden for Templars to marry. But they can’t live with their families, and the spouse must be capable of providing for themselves and any children.” Bilbo sighed. “He won’t leave them, and his wife is unwilling to leave. So it must look like he is blameless when it comes to the escape.”  
  
“It is almost as if there is a spell on this city,” Thorin mused.  
  
“How do you mean?”  
  
“It provokes… “ Thorin shook his head. “Loyalty or something akin to it. People stay, even when they have cause not to.”  
  
“Some will _not_ stay if given help to escape,” Bilbo said firmly. “And those are the ones we will get out. I only wish I had been brave enough to do this sooner, before so many were turned Tranquil.”  
  
“And after that?” Thorin asked. “Do you wish to leave Kirkwall as well?”  
  
The idea seemed strange to Thorin and with wry amusement he counted that as another point in favour of this city having a strange pull over its inhabitants.  
  
Bilbo still hadn’t agreed to move into the estate, but he still spent almost every night in Thorin’s bed and arms. Thorin wished he knew if it was because Bilbo truly wanted to, if he truly felt comfortable with it, or if it was because it was not safe in Darktown.   
  
But every time he was about to bring up the subject something wouldn’t let him.   
  
Bilbo had told him so many times that he would not move into the estate and put Thorin and Dís and Víli at risk, so to bring up the subject… what if it made Bilbo realise what he was doing and then he would start spending his nights in his Clinic again.  
  
Despite Bilbo having moved it twice since the death of the Viscount Thorin definitely did not want him to go back to living there. Not only because it would take Bilbo away from him, but also because it simply still was not safe.   
  
With Denethor controlling the city guard as well as his own Templars Darktown was perhaps safer than it ever had been due to an increase in both guard and Templar presence. But that did not mean it was safe for everyone. And Bilbo least of all.  
  
“I can’t leave Kirkwall for as long as Denethor is…” Bilbo hesitated.   
  
“Alive?” Thorin asked, even though it wasn’t really a question.  
  
Bilbo nodded slowly. “After the Mages are safe, then perhaps it will be time to do something. But I fear it won’t end with him. Perhaps if the Grand Cleric could be convinced to appoint someone like Bard, but there are entirely too many Templars who share Denethor’s opinions.” He sighed. “But I still have hope that she might see reason. Despite the Chantry symbol being a sun there is no doubt that she has lived a long time in the dark. But I have confidence that her eyes can be opened.”  
  
“Do you think that Denethor demanding that all remaining Mages should be killed will be enough to open them?”

  
“I hope so. I really, really hope so.”  


-  


Thorin said nothing to Dís and Vili. Nor anything to Dwalin, Dori and Ori. Nori had still not been seen in Kirkwall after that night, and the last thing Dori and Ori needed was more people to worry about. Dís on the other hand… Telling her would mean that she would want to come along, and despite Thorin knowing that it made him a hypocrite; demanding that Bilbo would involve him in his plans and then refusing Dís a chance to make a choice in something with ultimately concerned her, he was not about to let his sister take part. She had Víli, and should anything happen to Thorin she would still have Víli. The wealth that the Deep Roads’ treasure had provided was more than enough to last them two lifetimes and they would have lots of little ones, and they would be happy.   
  
There was no need for her to risk throwing all that away.  
  
Not for the first time Thorin admired how strong his father must have been to move on with his life after his wife, Thorin’s mother, had died. Perhaps it helped that he’d had two children to take care of, or perhaps he was just stronger than Thorin was. The idea of a life without Bilbo… no. Thorin much preferred to meet whatever that would come at his lover’s side.  
  
“Are you ready?”   
  
Thorin met Bilbo’s eyes and nodded. “Lead the way.”

-

  
The plan almost succeeded. Or perhaps not, depending on how you looked at it.

Bilbo had trusted Elrond to know which Mages could be trusted, which ones who desperately wanted out, which ones who could keep quiet. But at least one of them should not have been trusted.

Thorin paced back and forth at the agreed meeting point, a fairly large chamber just outside the gates leading to the tunnels beneath the Gallows.  
  
“Their feet won’t move faster because yours do,” Beorn said flatly. “It does not work that way.”  
  
The large man loomed in the shadows just off to the side, almost invisible unless you knew how to look for him and Thorin glanced at him but did not reply.

After an eternity there was the sound of footsteps coming from the tunnel and Thorin was just about to go and meet them when a large hand snagged the back of his coat.  
  
“Those footsteps are much too heavy to be a mage,” Beorn growled quietly, and when Thorin listened he could indeed hear the soft clink of metal. Mages would not wear armour.  
  
“Stay back,” Beorn ordered as he pushed Thorin to the side. “We’ll see who it is.”  
  
They both moved into the shadows, Beorn more or less manhandling Thorin into a corner. He would have protested, but there was no time.  
  
A Templar slipped out of the tunnel into the room and looked around and Thorin dug his nails into the palm of his hands. What had gone wrong? Was Bilbo-  
  
Turning back the Templar gestured for the ones coming behind him to approach. This made the shadows move and his face came into view.  
  
“Bard,” Beorn said beneath his breath. “Which means…”  
  
What it meant was that the people following him out of the tunnel were not more Templars but instead wary looking Mages. One, a pretty human immediately moved to hover close to Bard’s side. The way he smiled at her made Thorin wonder if this was perhaps the reason why he had been willing to help, despite having a wife, but it was hardly the time for such thoughts.  
  
When Beorn moved forward there was more than one gasp, but the Mages calmed down when Bard greeted him quite calmly. Thorin followed, quickly counting how many Mages had come.  
  
Almost three dozen, but Bilbo had hoped for more, so the supplies would be enough. They were a diverse group. The youngest was a human boy who looked to be about seven, and the oldest was an Elven woman with long silver hair and wrinkles spreading out from the corners of her eyes and mouth but apart from that she was strangely untouched by time.

“I know this isn’t quite according to plan,” Bard said apologetically. “But we were almost discovered and First Enchanter Elrond needed to provide a distraction. He will come as soon as he can.”  
  
“A fight?” Beorn grunted and Bard shook his head.   
  
“No, nothing like that. He shouldn’t be far behind but we could not risk waiting, and I couldn’t just send everyone off on their own and hope for the best.”

Thorin wanted to ask Bard if he’d seen Bilbo, but what would the point be. Bilbo was inside the Gallows now, and Thorin couldn’t help him, except by helping those he wanted free.  
  
“I’ll be going back now, before anyone misses me,” Bard said and smiled at the gathered Mages. “If I’m lucky I’ll run into Elrond on the way so he can knock me unconscious.”  
  
This provoke a nervous titter amongst many of the Mages but the pretty young woman burst into tears and flung her arms around his neck. The way they held each other made Thorin realise that his first impression had been wrong. They did not touch each other with the passion of lovers, instead it reminder Thorin of the way Dís clung to him when she was scared.  
  
Bard whispered something in her ear which prompted her to make a noise somewhere between a giggle and a hiccup, and she unhappily released him and took a step back.  
  
“I know you will all be taken care of now,” Bard said. “And if we ever see each other again, I hope it’s in a place far away from here.”  
  
Agreeing murmurs came from the Mages and as Bard left Thorin wondered if the sad look on their faces was because they had lost a friend, or if it was like Bilbo thought, and many would have a hard time getting used to a life without any Templars standing behind their shoulder.   
  
When Beorn clapped his hands together everyone, including Thorin, jumped.   
  
“We need to go. Everyone pair up. First we’ll go and get you a change of clothes, then those who wants to go the docks will go with him-“ he pointed with his thumb at Thorin. “Those who plan on sticking to the Free Marches will stay with me, and if anyone is stupid enough to stay in this damned city, you’re free to do so.”

A nervous looking Elf stepped forward and cleared his throat. “The First Enchanter, shouldn’t we-“  
  
“He’ll come when he comes,” Beorn growled. “We are not going to stand around waiting. Pair up, and don’t go wandering off. Keep quiet, and if we tell you to do something, do it.” With that Beorn strode off down the tunnel and the Mages scrambled to sort themselves out and follow him. Thorin waited until he was the last one in the room and then, with a backwards glance at the gateway that would take him into the Gallows and to Bilbo, he too followed.  
  
-  
  
Thorin had expected that there would be protest about having to get changed in front of each other and himself and Beorn, but there was not even a hint of objection from the Mages. Quickly and quietly they got rid of their robes and started pulling on the clothes provided for them. A few of the males were gently teased by the others when they started to pull on a dress, but all on all it went far better than Thorin had expected. Beorn caught his confusion and snorted.   
  
“Their rooms in the Circles have no doors, privacy is not a luxury given to Mages. And you learn to follow orders.”  
  
“Did you escape from another Circle?” Thorin asked the question he had been wondering about almost since Bilbo revealed that the large man was a Mage and Beorn nodded but said no more about it, and Thorin didn’t ask.  
  
“We’ll split up after they’re done,” Beorn said even more quietly than when he first had spoken. “Make sure everyone has a coin purse, and-“  
  
Beorn’s head snapped up and he fell silent, Thorin was about to ask what he was doing but he had no sooner open his mouth before Beorn’s massive palm covered it.  
  
“Listen,” he hissed.  
  
It took a few moments but then Thorin heard what Beorn had noticed. Footsteps again. The same heavy, metallic sound as when they had waited for the Mages.  
  
“Maybe Bard has come back?” the girl who had embraced him said hopefully, startling Thorin as she did so as he’d not seen her approach them.  
  
“This is not just one person,” Beorn said darkly. “And it’s not coming from behind us.” He nodded towards one of the tunnels leading away from the door where they’d stashed all the clothes and provisions, the one Thorin had been planning to take to get to the docks as quickly as possible. “Sound travels down here, so they might still be a way off, but if we can hear them, they can hear us. But I would think they already know where to find us.”  
  
Thorin and the girl realised what this could mean at the same time and the girl paled in fear. Thorin moved to draw his sword but was stopped when Beorn’s hand circled his arm and held him still.  
  
“Don’t be a fool. _You_ need to take them to safety.”  
  
Thorin looked aghast at the big man. “I can’t leave y-“  
  
“You will. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Bilbo’s sake, or for theirs. If it’s Templars coming I’ll busy for long enough that you’ll have a chance. If it’s not those bastards, I’ll shout.”  
  
The grim expression on Beorn’s face gave a clear indication of what he thought it would be. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that they might run into mercenaries or smugglers, but neither of those were known to wear metal armour.  
  
Clenching his jaw Thorin grabbed the sleeve of the Mage girl. “Help me tell everyone that we need to leave. Now.”  
  
Again Thorin was surprised had how efficient the group was at getting themselves organised. When everyone was ready Thorin looked over at Beorn who nodded brusquely. “Go.”  
  
“What is happening here?” a voice asked and Thorin spun around, hand on his sword.  
  
“First Enchanter!” one of the Mages cried, and the boy next to him immediately shushed him.  
  
“Templars might be coming,” Beorn said shortly to the unremarkable man with long dark hair and green robes, and nodded towards the passage where the sound of footsteps now could be heard quite clearly. He looked to Thorin. “What are you waiting for, go.”  
  
But Thorin hesitated. “Shouldn’t we fight?” Surely the First Enchanter had to be a skilled Mage. If Bilbo had been able to kill a half dozen slavers on his own-  
  
“No,” Beorn growled. “You need to go. I’ll stay. Hold them off. But you need to go, now.”  
  
“He’s right,” the First Enchanter agreed. “I’ll stay as well-“ he raised his hands to ward off the storm of protests this incited. “I have a certain… acquired resistance if they try and suppress my spells.”  
  
Oh, Thorin had entirely forgotten about that particular Templar ability.   
  
“Go,” Beorn urged again, looking demandingly at Thorin. “Go or this will all have been for nothing. End of discussion.”  
  
Ignoring the last comment Thorin opened his mouth to reply when the air around Beorn shimmered and where the large man had been standing there was now an even larger bear, almost too tall to stand straight in the room.

Absurdly he thought that came to Thorin was how Dís would be so disappointed that they had known a shape shifter for all this time without knowing about it.

“Follow him,” the First Commander told his fellow Mages, and nodded in Thorin’s direction. He turned his serious gaze to Thorin and nodded. Thorin thought about arguing but the frightened and lost expressions he saw around him made him grit his teeth and nod back.

“I’ll stay as well,” an Elven Mage offered and raised her chin. “The last couple of times they tried to Cleanse me it didn’t work all the way, but I pretended it did.”  
  
Elrond shook his head. “We don’t have time for this, go now.”  
  
Thorin exchanged a last look with Beorn who bared his teeth, then he tapped the nearest Mages on their arms and gestured towards the eastern tunnel. “Everyone, follow me.”  
  
Later Thorin would count the Mages and realise that some hadn’t, some had, like the Elven woman, decided to stay and fight to try and give their companies a better chance to escape. But at the time Thorin could only hope that the Mages kept track of each other because he had no possibility to do so when leading the way.  
  
They had not gotten very far before they heard a voice ring out.

"Come peacefully and you will not be harmed!”  
  
“That’s Ferny,” the Mage closest to Thorin murmured. “He’s horrible. He got a girl pregnant and she was found dead-“  
  
“Less talking, more walking,” Thorin commanded. This was not the time to scare anyone more than they already was.  
  
The hair on Thorin’s entire body wanted to stand straight up when the furious roar of a bear tore through the tunnels, followed by surprised shouts from the Templars.  
  
It would not take them that long to get to the docks but Thorin wasn’t sure if that part of the plan was possible anymore. The Templars obviously knew about the Mages having left the Circle – Thorin gritted his teeth and tried not to think about what this could mean for Bilbo – so they might keep an extra eye on the gates in and out of the city, as well as the docks. And the people following Thorin were scared half to death and several of them were crying. Anyone who saw them would realise that something strange was going on.

Making a quick decision Thorin turned right instead of left, leading the Mages towards where Bilbo’s clinic had been, and the passage that would take them to the basement of the estate.  
  
They were just a few minutes away from the right passage when one of the Mages screamed.   
  
Turning around Thorin first saw nothing, the other Mages blocked his view, but as they scrambled away from that which had prompted the scream he caught sight of metal gleaming dully in the low light in the tunnel.   
  
“Templars!” someone screamed but before the panic could truly begin the Templar holding the squirming Mage raised his sword and placed the sharp edge along the man’s unprotected neck.   
  
“Everyone stand still or I will kill him.”  
  
“We’re not going back!” a blonde woman cried as she beat her fists against her hips. “We’re not, we’re not!”  
  
“Oh you all will,” the Templars smirks. “And you Lynette, stupid goose, you will be going straight to the isolation if you don’t behave. But don’t worry, I’m sure Ferny will come visit you. He’s never been concerned with getting his hands dirty. Or his prick,” he added almost contemplatively.   
  
“No, no, no!” the woman wailed. “No, no, I I’m not going back. I’m never going back.”  
  
“They’re over here!” the Templars called over his shoulder and the woman’s, Lynette’s, eyes flashed green.

“Oh no,” the Mage standing beside Thorin breathed. “Lynette, don’t-!“  
  
But it was already too late. The green glow spread from her eyes to envelope her entire body and then she changed.   
  
“Demon,” the Templar whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “Demon!”  
  
And there was no doubt in Thorin’s mind that he was right. He had assumed that the Darkspawn would be the most terrible beings he would ever see in his life but he had been wrong. So, so wrong.

The Templar’s arm had grown lax in his distracted and the Mage he had held captive squirmed out from beneath his arm and ran for his life. He had only gotten a few steps before the Demon held out its arm and a flash of green light flew from it, hitting the Mage in the back. It did not seem to care when he tumbled to the ground and remained there, limbs awry like those of a doll having been thrown during a temper tantrum. Instead the Demon walked slowly but unerringly towards the Templar.  
  
“ _You like fear_ ,” it said, and its voice was like broken glass and thousands of needles. “ _Let me show you_ true _fear_.”  
  
Distantly Thorin felt a tug at his sleeve and he looked up to find one of the Elven Mages looking down at him with tears in their eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “We need to go. Before it remembers us.”  
  
The Templar started to scream and Thorin nodded sluggishly. If he focused he could hear more heavy footsteps coming their way from behind the Templar, hopefully they would not only provide the Demon with a distraction but also kill it. Once it had been a human woman, but now… It was pure evil. The Demon they had met in the Fade had not felt like this, Thorin noted distractedly as he as quietly as possible led the Mages away. He’d not been this affected by it.  
  
They’d gotten far enough away that they could no longer hear the Templar screaming, or was it that he could no longer scream, when one of the Mages stumbled to the side of the passage and threw up. The old Elf woman Thorin had noticed when he first saw them stopped at the retching and coughing Mage’s side and rubbed his back.  
  
“We’re almost there,” Thorin promised. “I’ll not take you to the docks today. It would not be wise. But you’ll be safe in my home.”  
  
“We’re not safe anywhere,” the youngest of them the little boy, said with a shaking voice.  
  
“You will be in my home,” Thorin promised, desperately hoping that he wasn’t lying.  
  
-  
  
Things would probably have gone a little smoother if Dís hadn’t been in the basement as they entered. As Thorin explained how he had, sort of, helped free Mages from the Gallows and conveniently forgot to mention it to her, Dís went from worried to angry to furious to cursing at him and storming out of the basement.  
  
“She doesn’t like Mages,” the little boy said sadly. “Will she go to the Templars?”  
  
“No,” Thorin said firmly. “She won’t. And she likes Mages. She just doesn’t like me very much at the moment. I did not tell her about Bilbo’s plan.”  
  
"She's your sister?”  
  
Thorin nodded and the boy smiled. “I thought so. I had a sister too, before I was taken to the Circle. My mother said that they weren't going to be my family anymore." He was very matter-of-fact about it, but Thorin’s heart still ached for little boy.  
  
“We’re each other’s family,” the boy said and looked over at the others. “But not the Templars’. Not even Bard. He has his own family.”  
  
“That’s good,” Thorin said and attempted a smile. “That you take care of each other.”  
  
“No one else will,” a middle aged woman said, bitterness heavy in her voice.  
  
“Martha,” a younger woman scolded, with a worried glance at the young boy. “Maybe you-“  
  
She didn’t get any further before the older woman, Martha, burst out in tears.  
  
Immediately she was swept up into the arms of an older human man who gently stroked her hair and rocked her as she cried.  
  
“It’s been a long day,” the younger woman said and Thorin snorted despite himself.  
  
“Bit of an understatement, huh?” she asked and tiredly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
“Somewhat,” Thorin agreed.   
  
There was some flinches when Dís bustled back down the stairs, followed by Víli. Both of them had a small mountain of blankets and comforters in their arms.  
  
“Why is she crying?” Dís asked and glared at Thorin. “What did you do?”  
  
Thorin held up his hands. “I-“  
  
“Never mind,” Dís huffed and dropped the blankets. “Have you offered them something to eat?”  
  
“No, but-“  
  
“Why am I not surprised,” Dís murmured. Behind her back Víli shot Thorin a somewhat sympathetic look, which turned into something more like concerned amazement when he looked at all the Mages gathered in the basement.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dís continued, addressing the Mages. “That my brother is an idiot. And I’m also sorry, but I think it’s best if you sleep down here tonight, just in case. But before you go to sleep, if anyone wants to have a bite to eat you are more than welcome to come upstairs. I’ve already closed the curtains, but I close them all the time so no one is going to think that’s strange. The kitchen is up the stairs and make one left and then one right. And Víli will be right down with more blankets and all the furs we have.”  
  
“I will?”   
  
Dís shot him a look and he nodded and put the blankets he was holding down. “Coming right up. I mean down.”

“Thank you,” the little boy said and bowed. Víli bowed back and winked at him before disappearing up the stairs.  
  
“You’re very welcome,” Dís said and smiled brightly the boy. “What’s your name, darling?”  
  
“It’s Bergil, lady.”  
  
“Please, call me Dís. Are you hungry, Bergil?”  
  
The buy nodded and Dís smile grew. “Of course you are, you’re a growing boy. Do you want to come upstairs with me and have a late dinner?”  
  
Bergil nodded again and Dís’ smile turned impossibly wider when she held out her hand and he took it. “Great,” she beamed. “It’s not quite ready but it’ll be soon enough. And we have bread and cheese while we wait, and fruit. Please, join us if you want,” she added to the others.  
  
To Thorin’s surprise some of them looked to him as if searching for his approval. “It’s safe,” he told them. “Please just don’t leave the house.”  
  
“Can we-“ A woman bit her lip. “I’d like to wash up, if that would be all right?”  
  
“Oh, of course,” Dís said. “I should have thought of that. Thorin, we need towels. Can you get towels?”  
  
“I think I might manage,” Thorin said with a sigh. “I’ll go and warm some water, the bathroom is in the second door on your right when you go up the stairs.”  
  
The two of them went upstairs, Dís still holding Bergil’s hand some of the other Mages trickling along after them. In the kitchen after Dís had asked the Mages to please sit down and have some snacks before the food would be ready Thorin snagged her arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear.  
  
“Under no circumstances are you and Víli to go down into Darktown right now. There might be a Demon down there.”  
  
“A de-“ Dís glanced at their guests. “Oh those poor dears. Templars down there as well I’m guessing?”  
  
“Indeed,” Thorin confirmed and sighed. “We should be safe here, one of our guests said it was a Despair Demon and that the Templars should be able to deal with it, but let’s just say things did not go as we had planned.”  
  
Dís eyes widened. “Oh by the Stone, Bilbo? I didn’t ask, I assumed- He’s all right isn’t he?”  
  
Thorin looked away. “I don’t know. He wasn’t with us. He had a task to finish inside the Gallows. We are supposed to meet here.”

“Things were bad, weren’t they?” Dís asked solemnly and when Thorin nodded she pulled him in for a hug. “You are still an idiot,” she muttered. “Tell me when they are asleep, but now go boil water.”  
  
-  
  
Thorin did not spend the night up in his room, instead he pulled one of the mattresses down the stairs and placed it about half way between the front door and the door leading down to the basement. Whichever way Bilbo was going to pick, Thorin would hear it.   
  
He didn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes the image of the Demon jumped right back into his mind and he was immediately wide awake again.  
  
He didn’t know what time it was when he heard the basement door open, and when he saw who it was he didn’t care. Thorin didn’t remember getting up from the mattress, but since he had Bilbo in his arms he didn’t care, and he only realised that he had lifted Bilbo off his feet when boot-clad heels dug into the small of his back.  
  
“You’re here,” Thorin murmured and pressed kissed to every bit of skin he could touch. “Are you well? Are you hurt in any way?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Bilbo murmured, his hands curling into Thorin’s hair and holding him still for a proper kiss. “I’m so sorry, darling. This was not what was supposed to happen.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Thorin promised, and he meant it. He had Bilbo with him again, that made everything all right. “Do you know, are Beorn and the First Enchanter-?”  
  
“Dead,” Bilbo said and hid his face in Thorin’s neck. “Three other Mages with them. And it was a small miracle you didn’t lose anyone else when Lynette was possessed.”

“Is she, it-“  
  
“Also dead.” Bilbo shuddered. “But not before Denethor decided that it was a good idea to let the Demon get to a more populated area of Darktown.”  
  
“He- no,” Thorin said, aghast, his arms tightening around Bilbo.  
  
“He allowed it, people died, but those who didn’t are now thankful to the Templars for saving their lives from the horrible abomination that once was a Mage. And very eager to tell the nearest Templar if they see any apostates.” Bilbo pulled back but kept his arms around Thorin’s neck. “We need to get them out of Kirkwall as soon as possible. I’ll go down to the docks-“  
  
“It won’t be safe for you,” Thorin protested.  
  
“No one will see,” Bilbo promised. “I’ll either find a captain I already know I can trust or-“ he licked his lips. “I’ll convince them.”  
  
“You don’t mean with coin, do you?” Thorin asked.  
  
“No,” Bilbo sighed. “I don’t. But it’s not blood magic either, if that’s what you’re thinking. There are other ways. These people need to leave Kirkwall, before something else happens.”  
  
“Grima-“ Thorin had just remembered. “Is he-?”  
  
“Well and truly dead,” Bilbo said grimly. “At least one Mage did not die an undeserved death.” He buried his face in Thorin’s neck again and sucked in a breath. “I’m so tired.”

“Do you want to go upstairs?”  
  
There was a small noise which sounded protesting so Thorin carried Bilbo over to the mattress and gently put him down. He was too light, Thorin realised as he did so. Much lighter than he’d been just a few months ago.  
  
Bilbo would not loosen his arms from around Thorin’s neck until Thorin, kneeling on the mattress, gently covered his hands with his own. “I’m not going anywhere, but we won’t get comfortable like this.”  
  
“I need to feel your heartbeat,” Bilbo said and looked up at Thorin with pleading eyes.  
  
“Anything you want,” Thorin promised and laid down on his side, wrapping his arms around Bilbo as he immediately scooted closer and pressed a hand to Thorin’s chest.

“I was so afraid for you,” Bilbo whispered.   
  
“Shh,” Thorin murmured and stroked his hand down Bilbo’s back. “We’re both here now, and you should sleep.”  
  
“Nothing can happen to you.” Bilbo’s fingers curls slightly into Thorin’s shirt. “Nothing.”  
  
Thorin pulled his lover closer and started to hum a song that his mother had sang to him when he was a little boy.  
  
“ _Far over the misty mountains cold_  
 _To dungeons deep, and caverns old...”  
  
_ Bilbo’s breathing slowed and evened out, but his grip on Thorin’s shirt only grew stronger as he slipped into sleep.

-  
  
Thorin didn’t ask what method had been needed to convince three captains to let the Mages on-board, and Bilbo didn’t tell. All three ships were bound for Rivain, a long trip to be sure, but since the Chantry had never managed to gain a foothold there it would be safe.  
  
“And if they want, they can leave before then,” Bilbo said as he, Thorin, Dís and Víli stood and watched the ships sail leave the docks. They were standing on a cliff on the outskirts of Hightown, and the docks were so far below them that the ships were small enough that Thorin could blot them all out with his thumb. Cautious as ever when it came to being in Hightown Bilbo was not visible, even though it was unlikely that anyone would join them. The people of Hightown did not really like to be reminded that their part of the city was not the only one.   
  
Talking to someone he could not see was a little strange, but since Bilbo was still a warm comforting presence at Thorin’s right side the Dwarf did not complain.

“It’s going to take them months,” Víli said and whistled. “I’d almost rather go on land, even though it would take even longer. Being on the sea for that long… Bloody horrible.”  
  
Dís leaned her head on his shoulder. “Perhaps it’s a small price to pay when- what’s going on?”  
  
“What?” Thorin asked, following the ships with his gaze.  
  
“The statues,” Dís frowned. “Look.”  
  
Heart falling into his stomach Thorin watched as one of the first things he’d learned about Kirkwall was demonstrated to him. A giant chain net was being raised between the two colossal statues flanking each side of the harbour, blocking the channel that lead out to the sea. It was not a quick process, but it was quick enough that it would soon be more than high enough to be it impossible for the ships to pass it.  
  
Bilbo’s hand found Thorin’s and squeezed it. “Oh Gods, please no.”  
  
Three smaller ships left from the docks, and even from their spot up on the cliff it was possible to make out the sun on one of their sails, and the flaming sword on the two others.  
  
“How did they know?” Bilbo moaned. “Plenty of other ships have already left, and yesterday I found the one who had told Grima already before leaving- None of these would have revealed _anything_. They couldn’t have. They were on the ships.”  
  
“Perhaps one of the sailors,” Dís said shakily.

By now the ships had noticed what was happening and their sails were coming down to slow their speed even as they began to turn. If they had yet to notice the rapidly approaching ships was impossible to tell.  
  
“But they didn’t know either! The captains were not to say anything before their extra passengers were already on-board. And the captains would not have gone to the Templars.”  
  
Uncaring if anyone saw him Thorin reached out and wrapped it around thin shoulders. Invisible or not, Bilbo needed him.  
  
That arm tightened when a bright beam of red light rose from one of the ships. It was a thick as the largest mast and reached far higher up in the sky.  
  
“What’s happening now?” Dís asked anxiously.  
  
“Someone on deck is summoning a demon,” Bilbo said grimly.  
  
“Is there anything we can-“  
  
“No. It’s much too late now.”  
  
The four of them stood there and watched the macabre scene unfold before their eyes. The pillar of light disappeared as abruptly as it had come, and soon after that they saw smoke start to worm its way up from that vessel.  
  
The three Templar ships had stopped their approach and had instead positioned themselves with their broadsides facing the three bigger ships.   
  
“Look!” Dís said and pointed as what looked to be a small spark flew in the air between one of the Templar ships and the closest of the ones with Mages in their hold. It was quickly followed by more like it. Fire.  
  
“They must have a trebuchet aboard,” Víli said and shook his head. “Or something like it. Those are not arrows, we’d never see them.”  
  
“Why isn’t anyone fighting back?” Dís said after another long few moments had passed. Her voice thick, and tears gleamed in her eyes. “If I was there I could freeze the ocean, see how the Templars like it then.”  
  
“Each time you fight back and lose it gets harder to try again,” Bilbo said and you did not need to see him to understand that he was upset. Even if Thorin hadn’t been holding him, felt him shake, it would still have been obvious. “And when you do try, you’re desperate, desperate enough to try anything.”  
  
The ship from which the beam of light had come was now aflame and Thorin wondered if it was the actions of the Demon or Templars which had led to that. Though, wasn’t the first a direct cause of the latter? Anyone who had been through what happened yesterday, who had seen the terrible being who moments ago had been a young woman, if someone who had lived through that tried to do the same thing they had to be desperate indeed.

It was over surprisingly soon. The flames seemed to spread from one ship to the other until all the ships were burning brightly. Golden red rifts against the untouched blue of the ocean. And it was almost as if the sea disliked the disturbance because to Thorin it seemed as if the ships were there one moment, and then gone the next, completely vanished beneath the waves.

“At least they died free,” Víli said and wrapped his arms tightly around Dís as she hid her face against his chest.  
  
“No.” Thorin felt Bilbo’s curls move and understood that his lover must be shaking his head. “No, they died thinking that their nightmare wasn’t over after all. And that all those who had died before them had died for nothing.”  
  
Thorin flinched a little in surprise as the invisibility fell away from Bilbo, and the Dwarf looked around worriedly to make sure no one else was around. When he turned his attention back to his lover he almost flinched again. He had been so sure Bilbo, like Dís, had been about to begin weeping, but he had been mistaken. What had made Bilbo's throat close up had not been grief but fury, and what shimmered in his eyes was not tears. It was rage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Demons](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Demons)


	23. Present

“You can’t think that what he did was right?” Ori stared in disbelief at the Seeker. “You _can’t_.”  
  
“The Knight-Commander should not have acted as he did, but-“  
  
“No,” Ori protested. “No, but buts and ifs and maybes. Do you know how many people died that day? Many. _Many_ many.”  
  
“If Mages escape-“  
  
“If they think they have _reason_ to escape then perhaps-“  
  
“It’s not so easy. Mages are a danger to-“  
  
“Everyone who can get their hands on a sword is a danger to themselves and others but you don’t lock them up.” Ori glared up at the infuriating woman. “I guess the difference is that rich people can afford to by themselves swords and armour, and hire people to protect themselves against the crazies out there, but they don’t care about the poor people who can’t. Those people get taken by people like Azog.”  
  
“People with swords do _not_ run a higher risk of getting possessed by Demons,” the Seeker said and glared right back.  
  
Ori threw herself back down into the chair and stubbornly crossed her arm. “I heard about a pair of _pants_ being possessed once. And it wasn’t Mages who let a Demon lose in Darktown, it was Templars.”  
  
“As I said, I do not approve of what the Knight-Commander did, but-“  
  
Ori dug her nails into her own arm. “What about the abuse that caused the Mages to run? And how the crew of those ships were killed just the same? Beorn?” Ori blinked rapidly and pretended that it was only the dust irritating her.  
  
“I was told that he too allowed himself to be taken by a Demon,” the Seeker said coldly and Ori banged her foot against one of the chair legs.   
  
“He would _never_. The Templars had probably never seen a bear before, or maybe they were idiots. Mages do not get possessed as soon as they step outside the Circle. They get possessed when they think that’s the only option left, when they’re desperate. In Tevinter-“  
  
“You do not want to bring Tevinter up as a positive example, little one.” If the Seeker had been cold before she was now like ice.  
  
“And you do not want to see the _truth_ ,” Ori spat. “Bard did, and it cost him-“  
  
“If you are to mention the former Templar Bard as an example for your side then allow me to bring up the Mages who are happy to stay in the Circle.”  
  
“They’re not _happy_.” Annoyed Ori brushed her fringe away from her eyes. “They’re scared. And foolish. Before he left Bard told us that it was a Mage who had told Denethor about Bilbo’s plan, and to thank him for betraying his own kind the Knight-Commander made him _Tranquil_. And instead of stopping the plan Denethor allows them to escape to be able to make a big deal about it, then when the opportunity comes he allows a Demon to kill innocent people, and he would have thrown Bard, _and_ his family, in the dungeons that very same day if he’d not heard two Templars gossiping about him and managed to get away.”  
  
“Did Bard tell you anything else?”  
  
Ori shook her head. “But I think I know how they did it. They made more phylacteries, didn’t they?”  
  
The Seeker raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t the Mages have known if they did that?”  
  
“Not if they made them out of the first ones, divided the essence, the _blood_ ,” Ori said pointedly. “They had to have had a way to track them or else they couldn’t have known they’d be on the ships.”  
  
“Why did they not simply come and collect them in your friend’s home then?”  
  
Ori’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you persist in asking me things that you must already have figured out for yourself?”  
  
“What information I have is not always from the most reliable of sources,” the Seeker said and walked over to pour herself a cup of water. “What the Mage did to the Templars-“  
  
“That was nothing other than justice,” Ori hissed. “I never knew it was even possible, but if I had I would have thought it nothing but fitting.”

“I’m not surprised,” the Seeker said drily. “But tell me, why do you think it is that they didn’t come to this house looking for the apostates. Before tonight I will admit I didn’t even know your friend was involved in the attempt to allow the Mages to escape. There were rumours about a Dwarf being involved, but I assumed it would be the sister.”  
  
“Well either they had some reason not to come here that I'm not aware of,” Ori said with a huff. “Or it was because Bilbo put wards up. He never said that he did, but I know he did some on Nori’s and- and Glóin’s house. And on ours as well. I don’t think he’d let Thorin and Dís be without them.” She snorted. “If I know him he put as many as he could without making it glaringly obvious that someone with magic lived here, as that would rather defeat the purpose. If the phylacteries were not as potent as they usually are, then I could see the wards being strong enough to shield them. Or,” Ori raised her chin. “I don’t know what purposed the Knight-Commander would see in not coming for them but he was crazy. Crazy people aren’t rational.”

“And everything the Mage did was rational?” The Seeker shrugged one shoulder. “I strikes me that he and the Knight-Commander both did what they did to protect people from something they thought was evil. They both killed for what they believed in.”  
  
Ori’s mouth fell open and her eyes were wide with incredulity. “Except that the people Denethor killed were innocents, and the people Bilbo killed were rapists, killers and abusers. Or those who looked the other way and let those terrible things happen.”  
  
“And you would put the Grand Cleric amongst the latter?”  
  
“Not _once_ did she oppose what Denethor did.” Ori shook her head.” So how could I not?”  
  
“And for that she deserved to die? For not putting a stop to it?”  
  
Ori squirmed a little. “Well, I understand why Bilbo did what he did, but-“  
  
“Ah, ah, little one.” The Seeker shook her head and the smile stretching her lips did not touch her eyes at all. “No buts, ifs and maybes. You said so yourself.”


	24. Chapter Twelve - The Last Straw

When Thorin got his hands on Bilbo he wasn’t sure if he would grab him and never let him go or grab him and shake him until some sense fell into place in that head of his. And then hug him. And then probably shake him a little more because Thorin was _furious_. It was _not_ up to Bilbo to decide what was best for Thorin, and there was definitely no need to seemingly drop of the surface of the earth and only leave a note explaining how it wasn’t safe for any of them to be around him anymore.  
  
It probably was foolish to look for someone who could walk anywhere unseen but Thorin had tried anyway, and he’d failed.  
  
He couldn’t have left Kirkwall, he _couldn’t_ have, but Thorin would have liked if he thought that had more to do with himself, or Bilbo’s friends, and not how Bilbo wouldn’t leave while Denethor was still alive.

“He’ll come back,” Dís said and unceremoniously plopped herself down in Thorin’s lap where he was sitting in one of the armchairs in the downstairs hallway. She leaned her head against Thorin’s shoulder and covered the hand resting on one of the armrests with hers. “He’s just being stupid. It’s why you’re both obviously meant to be together.”  
  
Thorin didn’t reply, and didn’t move to acknowledge his sister’s existence but Dís did not let that stop her, instead making herself comfortable and moving Thorin’s arm around until she could lean back against it.  
  
“Too be fair he’s probably more scared than stupid,” she added with a sigh. “But that probably won’t help with the stupid so my point is probably still valid.”  
  
When Thorin still wouldn’t speak she nudged him with her elbow. “He’ll be back. He wouldn’t-“  
  
“I’m more concerned with what he is doing compared to where he might be,” Thorin said darkly. “He told me that he wouldn’t leave Kirkwall with the Knight-Commander still alive. But killing him is not an easy task. Or a safe one.”

“Like I said, stupid.”  
  
Thorin’s brows furrowed further and Dís sighed. “I’m trying to agree with you, be a supportive sister, don’t get upset about me saying what you’re thinking.”  
  
“I did not ask you to-“  
  
“You don’t ask someone to be supportive, Thorin. That’s not how it works. My point is, don’t sit here and brood. Do you think he’d want you to? Or do you think he’d want you to do something more worthwhile with your time?”  
  
“Probably stay here since it’s safe,” Thorin said bitterly.

“I can see how you like that plan,” Dís murmured. Sighing again she pressed a kiss to Thorin’s cheek and then squirmed out of his lap with the same lack of grace with which she’d sat herself down. “We’re having dinner soon. Please be there.”  
  
Thorin grunted something but Dís didn’t let him get away with it.  
  
“Fine,” he said finally after trying and failing to ignore her starting at him with her most disapproving face. “I’ll be there.”  
  
She gave him a doubtful look, but nodded and walked off towards the kitchen where Víli was in the middle of trying not to start a fire. It was a tough contest between him and Ori regarding who was more out of their depth when it came to cooking.  
  
What little good spirit that thought had managed to bring Thorin abruptly fell away as he realised Bilbo was most likely not eating properly wherever he was.  
  
He’d only been gone for a few days but who knows how long it would be before Thorin saw him again. He wouldn’t leave Kirkwall, but what if something happened to him? Something that would keep him from coming back to Thorin. What if it had already happened and instead of being out looking Thorin was just sitting around like a damned fool.  
  
Getting out of the chair Thorin grabbed his cloak and on his way to the basement stairs he called into the kitchen how he was going out.  
  
“Dinner!” Dís protested, but Thorin ignored her. It wasn’t like he was hungry anyway.  
  
-  
  
Bilbo was nowhere to be found in Darktown, which wasn’t a surprise but which still managed to be disappointing. But the person who found Thorin as he was slowly making his way home was most definitely a surprise, and not disappointing.  
  
“It’s been made all too clear to me how I can’t leave you people alone without everything falling apart.”  
  
Thorin whipped his head around to see Nori slink her way out of the shadows.  
  
“You cut your hair.” Was the first thing Thorin managed to make his tongue say. It used to reach her waist, even when braided, but now the front barely reached her collar bones and it was even shorter in the back.  
  
Nori’s smile wasn’t quite as bright as it had been before, but it was just as brash. “Still not just a pretty face.”  
  
Swallowing both surprise and exasperation Thorin closed the distance between them and pulled Nori into his arms. As always when he was right next to her he was a little taken aback with how small she really was, not only short but lean in a way not usual for their kind. Yet somehow she’d never seemed small next to Glóin, who while not particularly tall had been stocky enough. And Thorin had never thought her to be weak and that was certainly proven to be true once again when she squeezed him hard enough to make his ribs ache.  
  
“Bloody fuck, Thorin,” she muttered against his chest. “I came when I heard what happened with the Mages. News travel slow, but I’m here now. Where’s Bilbo?”  
  
Thorin laugh made Nori pull back and look up at him with something close to worry on her face. Unlike the last time Thorin had seen her it was free of both tears and dirt, and that, and the hair, wasn’t the only change. Thorin rather thought that a few new lines had appeared in her tattoo. Perhaps it was in remembrance of Glóin, but this was not the time to ask.  
  
“Bilbo has decided that it’s not safe for us to have him around,” Thorin said and tried to keep most of the bitterness out of his voice. “I don’t think he’s left Kirkwall, but-“  
  
“I repeat, bloody fucking _fuck_.” Nori shook her head and her hair danced over her face. “Right, well I guess I’ll look for him. Can’t promise anything since he’s unfortunately good at keeping out of sight.”  
  
She almost sounded as if she would start right away and despite Thorin knowing that if anyone would be able to find Bilbo, that person would be Nori, he thought there were other things that she should do before beginning.

“Your sisters missed you. We all did.”  
  
“Yeah, missed you too.” Nori looked away. “But I’m not sure if I’m here to stay.”  
  
“You’ll leave?” Thorin realised that he was still holding Nori, and that they were still standing in a tunnel down in Darktown. “Let’s go to the estate.”  
  
“I’m not sure I’ll leave,” Nori said quietly as they walked. “I’m just not sure I’m staying either. But I’m here now, so that’s something.”

“That’s plenty,” Thorin murmured and when a long fingered hand found his he squeezed it gently.  
  
-  
  
Nori had no better luck finding Bilbo than they’d had. No one claimed to have seen him or if they had they weren’t talking.  
  
“If he’s asked them to keep quiet they probably would,” Nori grumbled as she accepted the cup of tea Thorin handed her. They were both sitting in the estate kitchen, Dís and Víli having already gone to bed. “Which means it’s time for plan B.”  
  
“Plan B?”  
  
“If Bilbo thinks it’s not safe for him to be here, make it safe.” She took a sip of her tea. “Let’s kill Denethor.”  
  
“Bilbo thought-“  
  
“I know what he thinks but Bilbo is not here, now is he,” Nori said meaningfully. “If me and a knife can end this problem once and for all I don’t see why not. It’s not like anyone can blame the Mages for Denethor ending up with a knife sticking out of his eye. Knives aren’t magical.”  
  
“You won’t be able to get close to him.”  
  
“I don’t need to get close.” As always a knife seemed to materialise into Nori’s hand out of nowhere. One moment she was putting her tea down and the next steel glinted in her grasp. “I just need him to not wear a stupid helmet. And he usually doesn’t since he favours that stupid circlet that marks him as the Knight-Commander.”  
  
“If they catch you, they’ll kill you,” Thorin warned. “And they might because you will need to get fairly close.”  
  
“They won’t catch me,” Nori said and let the knife disappear down her boot again. “I’ve run away from guards most of my life, they’ve not been chasing me for most of theirs. They won’t catch me.”  
  
“Bilbo would never forgive himself if something happened to you.”  
  
One side of Nori’s mouth quirked. “Something has already happened to me, it’s not going to get worse than that. No,” she added when Thorin opened his mouth. “I’m not doing this _planning_ to get caught. I wouldn’t do that to Ori and Dori. And also, I think I’m going to do this no matter what you say.” Her eyes hardened. “He as good as killed Beorn. Even if the way Denethor treated Mages wouldn’t have been an issue that would still have been reason enough. I liked Beorn. He was a good guy. Fuck.” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out through her nose. “I know you didn’t really like him, but he was genuinely a decent guy. He couldn’t help having a thing for Bilbo but-“  
  
“Wait-” Thorin leaned forward over the table. “A ‘thing’?”  
  
Nori blinked. “You didn’t know? How could you not know? Every time we were all in the Hanged Man he was glaring daggers at you and smiling fluffy bunnies at Bilbo.”  
  
“Bunnies?”  
  
“It’s a metaphor, like the daggers, don’t get hung up on it.” Nori rested her elbows on the table. “You really didn’t know?”  
  
Thorin shook his head. He thought that Beorn either hadn’t liked him or thought that he would hurt Bilbo. He’d not thought that the disapproval stemmed in something like this.  
  
Nori sighed. “Well know you do. I imagine Bilbo took his death hard. Beorn might not have helped if anyone else had asked. Bilbo had to beat himself up over that.”  
  
“We were all upset after everything that had happened, and then he disappeared.”  
  
It was possible that Thorin put his cup down with a little more pressure than needed. The way it shattered would certainly indicate that.  
  
“Lucky it’s a big table,” Nori remarked when the tea spread out in a puddle but didn’t spill onto the floor. “Not sure if I’m hoping that’s jealousy of a dead man or frustration that Bilbo is hiding. Both are about as productive really.”

“I’m not jealous,” Thorin gritted out.  
  
“Convincing,” Nori drawled. “Seriously, stop. It’s not like you can blame anyone for liking Bilbo, you would have stolen him away the same day you met if given the chance. Oh, and Beorn’s _dead_.”  
  
“I am sorry about that,” Thorin said stiffly. “We did not get along, even if I did not know _why_ , but I would agree that he was a good man. He gave up his life for people he didn’t even know.”  
  
“He did lots of other stuff as well,” Nori said. “Not as immediately impressive, but still. Aren’t you going to clean up the tea before it soaks into the wood?”  
  
When Thorin’s eyebrows raised she shrugged. “I grew up around Dori, clean it or she’ll know.”  
  
“Staying here tonight?” Thorin asked as he went up to get something to mop up the mess with.  
  
“Nah, Ori would give me puppy eyes. I said I’d stay with them. And speaking of-“ She lifted her cup and inhaled the rest of her tea. “I best get going actually.”  
  
“Don’t do anything rash,” Thorin warned.  
  
“Just going to spend the night at my sisters’.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
“I’m not going to track him down tomorrow and flick a knife at him,” Nori sighed. “That would be stupid. But as soon as I know I can do it without getting caught, he’s dead. And then maybe we can have some peace around here.”  
  
“And you’ll be around to see it?”

The redhead paused in the doorway, her back to Thorin. “I guess we’ll find out.”  
  
-  
  
The same night something woke Thorin shortly before dawn, and when he saw who it was who had disturbed his sleep he reflexively looked up at the ceiling, and when he found nothing out of the ordinary he whipped his eyes back to Bilbo.  
  
Unlike the first time Bilbo had come to his room he wasn’t standing next to the bed. Instead he was curled up on it at Thorin’s side, lying on the covers which Thorin hadn’t bothered to push all the way down. He looked to be sleeping but when Thorin scooted down to touched a hand to Bilbo’s shoulder the blond opened his eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo whispered, and he sounded defeated.  
  
“Bilbo?” Thorin hesitated for a second before curling his hand around Bilbo’s upper arm. He didn’t know what to say. What to do. Not even what to think. He’d expected to be upset with his lover, but he wasn’t. Bilbo looked as if the entire weight of Thedas rested on his shoulders, and unless it was the darkness playing tricks, he did indeed look thinner. Biting back an offer of food Thorin stroked his hand down up and down Bilbo’s arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”  
  
“Shouldn’t be,” Bilbo murmured. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. Dangerous for you.”  
  
“Dís is entirely right when she says you’re stupid,” Thorin muttered and fought his way out from beneath the sheets. “Only I’m not sure what that makes me.” Pulling an unresisting Bilbo into his arms Thorin buried his nose in Bilbo’s hair and breathed deeply. “Don’t do this again, please.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry, just-“ Thorin’s arms tightened. “Do not leave me. Unless- unless you wanted to. But not because you think you have to for my sake.”  
  
“I’m almost done,” Bilbo whispered. “It’s not safe for you, any of you, with me here but I couldn’t stay away. I need you Thorin. I thought I could stay away, but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry. I needed to see you. Don't worry. I'll be gone in the morning.”  
  
“No!” Thorin protested. “No, Bilbo. I don't want you to leave. And done with what?”

Bilbo was silent for a long time and as he had closed his eyes again Thorin almost thought that he’d fallen asleep.  
  
“I want to go home.” Bilbo’s voice was barely even audible and Thorin froze for a moment. Bilbo had never really talked about his home before, apart from him leaving it to join the Wardens.  
  
“We can- If I’m allowed to-?“ Thorin began but Bilbo shook his head.  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“We will kill Denethor,” Thorin promised. “And-“  
  
“No I _can’t_ ,” Bilbo said again. “It’s- it wouldn’t be safe. The phylacteries… The Grey Wardens are no strangers to this magic. I don't know if they have my blood. Blood is part of the joining ceremony. Not mine- but there was- I'm not- I can't go back there not knowing who I will be bringing with me.” Bilbo’s face twisted. “But I love you and I still came here. I’m so sorry, Thorin.”  
  
“There are no Grey Wardens here,” Thorin said as calmly as he could manage. “And the Templars do not know that you’re here.” He cupped Bilbo’s face and brushed his thumb over the bruised looking skin beneath Bilbo’s eyes. He probably hadn’t been sleeping enough either. “The world is big. I would follow you, wherever you go. Don’t disappear.” _Don’t leave me._  
  
“I can’t take you from your family,” Bilbo murmured. “I can-“  
  
“But they can come too,” Thorin said, realising as he said it that it was true. “There is nothing keeping us in Kirkwall, not really. I’m sure Dís and Víli would come with us. And Nori and her sisters, and Dwalin. I believe that Nori doesn’t even plan on staying regardless.” Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. “You’ve stayed so long to help others. But now it’s time to leave. We can go wherever you want.”  
  
A small spark came back into Bilbo’s eyes. “Truly? You would do this, for me?” Then as quickly as it had appear it was gone again. “You won’t want to come.”

“Bilbo…” Thorin leaned down and pressed their lips together in the softest of touches. “I would go with you this very night if you wished it.” And it was true. The decision to leave Kirkwall was much easier than Thorin could have imagined. He had first stayed because of Bilbo, so it was natural that if he was to leave, it would also be because of his lover.

“Your family…”  
  
“They might want to go with us,” Thorin suggested and ran his fingers through tangled curls, trying to work out the snags without causing harm. “But I will go with you, even if they would want to stay,” Thorin promised. “Dís and Víli will take care of each other. As will the others. But I can’t lose you.”

“You should be with them.”  
  
Surprised and hurt Thorin sat back up and looked down at his lover. “You don’t want me to go with you?”

“I want you to be safe,” Bilbo said quietly. “And-“  
  
“And?” Thorin prompted when Bilbo didn’t continue. “Do not tell me what I can or cannot do. I’m not leaving Kirkwall while you’re still here, and if you are leaving I am going with you.”  
  
“Before I leave there is something I need to do.”  
  
“Do what?” Thorin asked, dread pushing at the edges of his mind, brought forward by the hopelessness in Bilbo’s voice. “Nori said that she could kill Denethor. And she-“

“Killing him is only part of it.” The blond swallowed and looked away. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Do you think I would stop you?” Thorin shook his head. “I agree with you that Denethor needs to die. As I’ve told you, you can tell me any-“  
  
“If I tell you, you might not love me anymore,” Bilbo whispered as he turned his head back to glance at Thorin for a brief moment before closing his eyes and bracing himself as if expecting a blow.  
  
Thorin’s stomach twisted and all his annoyance and frustration washed away like dirt in a cold rain.

“Then don’t tell me.”  
  
Bilbo flinched and then again as Thorin’s hand cupped his cheek. “But _not_ because I would stop loving you. There is nothing you can do, or say, that would stop me from loving you. So you don’t need to tell me. But you need to promise me that you’ll be safe. And I won’t leave Kirkwall without you, this is not negotiable. You will need to need tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

The tear slowly making its way down Bilbo’s cheek startled Thorin a little and he softly brushed it away with his thumb.

“Just tell me that you’ll be safe. I assume this is related to the Templars. Please, don’t-“

“I'm going to start a war,” Bilbo whispered and Thorin’s hand froze. “The Ferelden Circle was destroyed. The one in Kirkwall is as good gone, there are only a few Mages left. And I've learnt that the Circle in Starkhaven was all but destroyed as well. They burnt it. The Templars are planning to move the remaining Mages here to Kirkwall. To Denethor.”  
  
Another tears fell and Bilbo blinked rapidly. “And no one seems to care. But I will make them care. The time has passed for sitting on the sidelines and doing nothing. So I’ll start a war.” He licked his lips and turned to look Thorin in the eyes again. His lips quirked the slightest bit.

“Love me now?”

Thorin’s first reaction was to be angry. It sounded as if Bilbo did not only doubt him, he mocked Thorin’s feelings. But then he noticed the hunched shoulders, how it seemed as if Bilbo tried to make himself as small as possible, and the tears which were still making their silent way down too pale cheeks.

“Yes. I do.” Thorin said solemnly. “I expect I will always love you.”  
  
A small hurt noise escaped from Bilbo and his face crumbled. Thorin watched helplessly as his lover’s small frame was wrecked with huge sobs. Not knowing if his touch was wanted Thorin slowly stretched out next to Bilbo again and curled an arm around his waist to pull the shaking blond close. The response was immediate and Bilbo twisted around and nestled in as close to Thorin as possible.  
  
Thorin rubbed circles on Bilbo’s back and tried not to obsess about how the knobs of his spine felt much too prominent.  
  
“I love you,” Thorin whispered when he didn’t find any other words. “Nothing in this world, or in any other, can change that. I might be upset, I might not approve, but no matter what you do I will always love you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bilbo managed to press out in-between sobs. “I love you, but I have to do this.”

“What can I do to hel-“

“No!” Bilbo lifted his head, tears and the slight redness of his eyes making the hazel seem greener than ever before. “You can’t help. I won’t let you.”

“Is it something Dís can-“  
  
“No!” Bilbo’s hand pressed against Thorin’s chest. “No, you can’t tell her, them, anything. None of you can be involved, I don’t want you to get hurt. If you would leave-”  
  
“I’m not leaving Kirkwall without you,” Thorin said firmly. “But if you are worried we could be hurt, what about you? Will you be safe?"  
  
“I’ll be safe,” Bilbo murmured. “I won’t even need-“ he cut himself off and shook his head. “I’ll be safe.”  
  
Thorin nodded. “Thank you.” He wondered if Bilbo’s insistence that he’d not get involved, that Dís would not get involved, meant that Bilbo planned on using blood magic. Thorin also wondered how he felt about that possibility.

“I love you,” Thorin murmured, lifting Bilbo’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.  
  
“I love you too.”

“I will talk to the other about joining us when we leave. I will need a few days to get everything ready. Is that acceptable?”  
  
Bilbo nodded and pressed closer again.  
  
“Will you be here in the morning? Please,” Thorin added when a reply did not seem to be forthcoming.  
  
“It’s not safe for you,” Bilbo said quietly. “I’ve had nightmares the last few nights. If I did something to hurt you-“  
  
“I can sleep somewhere else,” Thorin promised. “Stay, have breakfast and allow Dís to yell at you. Please.”  
  
“I can’t throw you out of your bed,” Bilbo protested.  
  
“Nori is back as well, I’m sure she’d help Dís yell at you.” Thorin had meant it as a tease, but he’d not meant for Bilbo to pale again and shrink back.  
  
“Is she very upset with me?”  
  
“I’d worry more about Dís since Nori doesn’t really have the moral high ground when it comes to suddenly disappearing,” Thorin said slowly. “Bilbo, what-?”  
  
“It’s my fault Glóin died,” Bilbo said and bit down hard on his bottom lip. “I should have stopped Bluebeard from taking the stone, I should have been there to heal Glóin. I should have found Bluebeard before-“  
  
“Bilbo…” Thorin reached out for him and gathered him close. “No. None of that was your fault.”

“I knew that there was something strange about that stone the moment we even got close to it,” Bilbo murmured. “Bluebeard wasn’t the kindest of people, but he would never have done what he did if he’d been sane of mind. I wanted to find the stone to use it, but now… I think it’s too dangerous. I felt the power in it, and I’ve never felt anything like it. Perhaps there is a reason for that.”  
  
“You can’t know it was the stone that made Bluebeard act as he did,” Thorin said.  
  
“But I do.” Bilbo was silent and not knowing what to do, Thorin began stroking his hair again. “There’s something wrong with that stone. And whatever Bluebeard did with it I hope it will stay lost.”  
  
Thorin hummed and continued to card his hand through Bilbo’s hair. He’d almost completely worked out the tangles and the soft strands flowed like silk between his fingers.  
  
“Stay,” Thorin murmured. “Nori will want to see you, and if she yells at you feel free to yell back. I’ve been worried about you both. But if you need to go, tell me. Don’t leave a note.”  
  
“Promise that you will wake me if-“  
  
“I promise.” Thorin leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s nose. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up, and then we’ll work out what we should do. With everything. But breakfast first.”  
  
“You don’t always need to feed me,” Bilbo murmured, something close to his usual exasperation in his voice.  
  
“No, but I want to. Now, get beneath the sheets. I’ll go and leave a note for Dís and I’ll be right back.”  
  
“I love you, Thorin.”  
  
“And I, you.”

-

Dís and Víli immediately agreed to come when asked, as did Nori. And Dís and Nori did indeed yell at Bilbo for being stupid and disappearing without talking to any of them, but they also made sure to hug him in equal measures and thank him for coming back.  
  
When Thorin went to talk to Ori, Dori and Dwalin the tentative plan that had grown during that morning’s breakfast hit a snag.

“We’re expecting a babe,” Dori told them, wringing her hands. “I don’t know-“  
  
“Congratulations,” Thorin said, a little shocked. He looked to Dwalin and nodded. “Congratulations.”  
  
Dwalin nodded back and gently curled his arm around Dori’s middle. “Being on the road, or on a ship, for months wouldn’t be good for Dori and the babe.”  
  
“Bilbo will be there,” Thorin pointed out. “If the smallest thing goes wrong he would be able to help.”  
  
“True,” Dori said slowly, but the look she gave Dwalin was unsure and somewhat lost. Thorin didn’t blame her for being concerned. Dori was slightly older than you would except for someone expecting their first child, which meant that more things could go wrong, and even during the best circumstances a pregnancy wasn’t something to take lightly. But that’s was the very same reason as to why Dori should be close to Bilbo.  
  
“Think about it,” Thorin insisted. “We will travel comfortably, and again, Bilbo will be there to help if anything looks to be amiss.” He looked to Ori. “How about you? Will you join us?”  
  
“Kirkwall is my home,” Ori said and fidgeted with her skirts. “I don’t know. I’d like to think about it.”  
  
“Of course,” Thorin said. “We will gather supplies over the next few days, perhaps even weeks. A little at the time as to not arise suspicions.

“Where do you plan to go?” Dori asked.  
  
“We’ve not yet decided. Bilbo suggested to go to Cumberland in Nevarra to get word to the Grand Enchanter about what has happened here in Kirkwall. Nori and I-“ Thorin smiled wryly. “-do not think it’s a good idea. A letter yes, but not trying to see her in person. My plan was Tevinter, but Bilbo says that if they find out about Dís’ magic she would not be safe there either. Nori wants to go to Rivain or Antiva-“  
  
“Antiva,” Dori said with a world of meaning pressed into the word. “With all the assassins? I think not.”  
  
Thorin hid a smile. It would appear that Dori was at least considering coming with them.  
  
“We’re all agreed to avoid the Anderfels and Orlais at least,” Thorin shrugged. “The Wardens and Templars will just have to do without us. Perhaps we’ll go back to Ferelden. That was Dís’ suggestion.”

“Don’t you think you need a better plan before going?” Dori sniffed.

“I don’t know,” Thorin said slowly. “Perhaps it is better to have only a basic plan; to leave Kirkwall. That way less things can go wrong. But wherever we go, we will have plenty of coin, and since no one knows that Bilbo will leave with us we won’t be searched for. Nori and I will spread the word that we’ve gone to Orzammar. Even if we should end up there Templars have no authority.”  
  
“What’s Bilbo planning then?” Dwalin grunted. “Since you think you’ll need to hide.”  
  
“He’s going to kill Denethor,” Thorin said shortly. “And he’s planning something else as well but he doesn’t want to tell me what. I’m staying with him until he’s done what he needs to do.”

“Will it really be safe for us to stay?” Dori asked and looked worriedly up at Dwalin. “If he’s planning to do something… like that.”  
  
“It should be,” Thorin said. “People know that Bilbo and Nori are friends, and that Nori and I were partners in the Deep Roads expedition, but those who know more than that will not tell the Templars of it.” Thorin snorted. “Apparently I’m betrothed to a Dwarven princess in Tevinter, never mind that there are no Dwarven princesses in Tevinter. I swear Nori’s stories-“  
  
“Um, that’s mine actually,” Ori said and awkwardly waved her hand. At Thorin’s raised eyebrow she blushed a little and shrugged. “People speculated why you didn’t have a sweetheart, I thought it was better to give them something to think about that didn’t involve Bilbo.”

“Ori,” Dori scolded.  
  
“What,” Ori huffed. “It’s not like he wants anyone to think he’s available either.”  
  
“Why doesn’t anyone ever ask me what I think about these things,” Thorin muttered.  
  
“Don’t tell me that you want people to think you’re available,” Ori said and blinked.  
  
“Of course not,” Thorin sighed. “But it would be nice to be _asked_ before someone makes up stories about my life.”  
  
Ori squirmed. “I only meant to help.”  
  
“He’s only upset about the princess part,” Dwalin smirked. “Best make it a prince in the future.”  
  
“Suddenly I’m questioning whose idea it was that you would all come with us,” Thorin murmured. “But no one is leaving just yet. Dís and Víli are letting everyone who will listen know that the three of us are going back to Ferelden, so when we’re suddenly gone it won’t surprise anyone. No reason to be suspicious. If you want to come, perhaps say that you’re thinking about going north instead. That way people won’t think that you’re planning to travel with us.”  
  
Thorin looked at each of his friend and smiled. “I do hope you will come, but if not, we will leave much of the treasure for you, we can only take what we can carry. Your little one won’t need for anything, and neither will the babe, right Ori?”  
  
“Hey,” Ori protested when she realised what Thorin meant. “I’m not little.”  
  
“I have wondered if I could fit her in my pocket,” Dwalin mused, grinning down at Dori when she slapped his arm.  
  
“Behave.”  
  
“Or what?”  
  
“Ugh.” Ori made a face at the look her sister gave Dwalin. “Look what you made them start. Remember you can only have one baby at the time, and that my sanity is a fragile thing.”  
  
“Go get a book,” Dwalin suggested without looking away from Dori.  
  
“Thorin,” Ori whined. “Make them stop.”  
  
“Want to join me in the markets?” Thorin offered, smiling at the heartfelt agreement immediately following his words. “We’re going to buy what we need a little at the time as to not give away how many people we’re getting supplies for.”  
  
“Should Ori really join you?” Dori said and leaned into Dwalin side. “If we’re trying to not let it be known that we all know each other quite well.  
  
Thorin and Ori looked at each other and Thorin shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. It’s not the first time we’ve gone to the markets together, but we should probably not risk it.”  
  
Ori muttered something unkind beneath her breath. “I’m going to the estate then,” she huffed. “Is Bilbo there?”  
  
“No, he left again this morning.” This time with promises to be back in the evening. “I think Dís was supposed to go to the market as well, but you can have my key. Again, my best wishes for you and the babe,” Thorin added to Dwalin and Dori who thanked him and then smiled quite soppily at each other.  
  
“They’ve been like that all week,” Ori complained. “And I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the babe just yet. Not that I’m not happy, but I have to say I’ve had more fun.”  
  
“Stop complaining or I’ll tell you exactly how we made the little-“  
  
“Dwalin!” Dori protested.  
  
“Little Dwalin?” Dwalin mused. “I don’t know, seems a bit unimaginative.  
  
“Ask me again to come with you and I might say yes,” Ori said long-sufferingly to Thorin. “At least if they won’t.”  
  
-  
  
“If Bilbo uses blood magic-“  
  
“Shhhhh,” Dís hissed and looked around the street. Which was empty. Thorin wasn’t stupid. “Are you really going to talk about something like this here?”  
  
“I didn’t want Víli to overhear and get worried,” Thorin replied. “And we’re alone on the street.  
  
“We’re not talking about this here,” Dís said firmly. “You have the self-preservation of-“  
  
“Don’t say ‘blind nug’.”  
  
“A blind nug!”

“And you spend entirely too much time with Nori,” Thorin sighed.  
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes and then Dís couldn’t keep quiet any longer.  
  
“And he wouldn’t!” she exclaimed. “He wouldn’t- do, um, that.”  
  
“Dís-“  
  
“He wouldn’t,” she repeated. “We’ve talked about it enough that I know he wouldn’t. He’s taught me the principles of it, because he thinks that to make an informed choice you actually need information, but he doesn’t like it. At all.”  
  
“Sometimes we do things we don’t like,” Thorin said quietly. “And he certainly thinks that he’s going to do something which I won’t like. I won’t care if he kills Denethor-“  
  
“Shhhh!”  
  
“So there has to be something else.”  
  
“Thorin,” Dís reached out and touched Thorin’s shoulder and they stopped in the still empty street. “It’s not _that_ , it won’t be. For a lot of reasons, but a big one is because that would make things worse. It would make people like Denethor say that oh, Mages are dangerous. Look. We can’t let them outside the prisons we’ve made for them or this happens. He’d not do that. That’s the last thing he wants.”  
  
“He said he’s going to start a war.”  
  
Dís bit her lip. “Then he’s going to need to show people what they will be fighting for, right?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Thorin started walking again. “I’ve never tried to start one.”  
  
“If we overlook _how_ he’s doing it, do you agree with what he’s trying to do?”  
  
“At this point,” Thorin said slowly. “Any change can’t really make things worse. People are dying, people are being killed, and no one cares. What people like Denethor is doing has become normal and the thought of our family delivering Lyrium to the Chantry for decades, for them to give to Templars to help them control Mages… It sickens me. What do you think?”  
  
“I think that Bilbo is the best person I know,” Dís said loyally. “If he thinks he needs to do this, then he needs to do this. If there was another option, he will have tried it already. And I think I’m ready to leave Kirkwall. It’s not been the same since Father died to be honest. I-“ Dís sniffed. “Do you smell smoke?”

They had been walking along a street in Lowtown, and when Thorin sniffed and looked around he only saw the high walls and many back alleys which was typical for this part of the city.  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
A scream made them both jump. “I heard that though,” Thorin said.  
  
“The Alienage is just around the corner from here,” Dís said. “Do you think-“  
  
Another scream, this time from a child made them both start running.  
  
-  
  
Thorin had expected to arrive in the middle of an accident. He’d not expected to enter the Alienage to find three Templars holding torches, two city guards standing by their side, and all five of them standing around watching bright orange flames lick the walls of a small derelict shack.  
  
“What do you think you are doing?” Thorin growled.  
  
“Mage shut himself inside,” one of them laughed. “We’re showing ‘im that’s a bad idea. Now get before we show you too.”  
  
“And her?” Dís said tightly and pointed to an Elven woman lying unconscious on the ground.  
  
“Eh, tried to slip by us to save her little bastard,” the tallest of the guardsmen scoffed.

“Her- there’s a _child_ inside?” Dís gasped.  
  
“There is a _Mage_ inside,” one of the Templars said and took a step forward. “Now get out of here, Mistress Dwarf. You two are clearly not supposed to be here.”  
  
“You can’t kill a child,” Dís protested.  
  
“Killin’?” the guard who had spoken before snorted. “Collectin’ you mean. ‘s not up to us if what we find is a dead Mage or a live one is it? He had his chance.”  
  
“If you don’t put out the fire you’re going to burn down the entire Alienage,” Thorin said as calmly as he could. “The roofs are all straw. If the fire is allowed to burn for much longer you won’t be able to put it out and then it’ll spread.”  
  
It was impossible to know what the Templars were thinking as all three of them were wearing the heavy steel helmets with only a thin slit over the eyes to allow them to see, but the two guards looked a little uneasily at each other before the taller one squared his shoulders and spat on the ground.  
  
“’s not like anyone will miss ‘em anyway. Stone walls around ‘ere, won’t spread to the rest of the city.”  
  
“Are you going to let this happen?” Dís asked the Templar standing before her. “What about the innocent people?”  
  
“They are free to leave,” the Templar said blankly. “The Mage isn’t. And you, you are leaving right now.”  
  
“I am _not_ ,” Dís said. “I’m not letting you-“  
  
“Dís,” Thorin said warningly at the same time the two guards started laughing.  
  
“Lettin’ us she says!”  
  
“I’m sorry, Thorin,” Dís said and glanced at her brother. “But I can’t watch this.”  
  
When the air around them suddenly cooled enough for Thorin to see his own breath there was no doubt in his mind regarding what was about to happen.  
  
“Dís, we can-“  
  
But it was too late.  
  
“What the-“ the other guard started to stay and one of the Templars went for his sword, but that was as far as they both got.  
  
Frost bloomed out of Dís’ open palms and spread in the air in front of her. Thorin had expected her to freeze them like she once had the Darkspawn, but inside the thousands and thousands of tiny crystals seemed to melt together to form dozens of foot long spears of ice which hovered in the air between Dís and the Templars and guards. But they only hung in the air for the shortest of moments before Dís let them fly. They hit the two guards in their throats, unprotected as they were not wearing their helmets. The Templars took the spear straight to their chests; the armour making some of the ice spears splinter into glittering shards, but others… others managed to penetrate the steel and as the guards fell to the ground the Templars stumbled backwards by the force of the blows and one by one they too fell.  
  
Dís closed her eyes and held out her hands in front of her, palms facing upwards to the sky. The fire, which had indeed just started to spread to the straw roof, abruptly ran into some trouble when a mat of frost spread over the straw and the clay walls of the shack.

“Right,” Dís said shakily as the flames died down. “Now I think we should leave.”  
  
Thorin looked around and in all doors, all windows, he saw Elves looking at them. Some looked amazed, some were crying, some looked horrified. And it was because of those ones Thorin nodded and took Dís’ hand.  
  
“Wait,” Dís said as Thorin began to move towards the gate. When he turned to look at her, her eyes were wide with fear. “I don’t think she’s breathing.”  
  
At first Thorin didn’t understand what his sister meant. Then he followed her eyes and saw that she looked at the Elven woman lying like a broken doll on the ground. Her chest was not moving, and now that Thorin took a closer look he could see blood slowly spreading beneath her head.

“Dís, we can’t stay, and you can’t heal her anyway.”  
  
“But the boy,” Dís protested. “If she’s-“  
  
“He might have other family.” Thorin pulled on her arm. “We need to go before more guards or more Templars get here.” Before anyone afraid of Mages told them what had just happened. “You’ve saved the Alienage from burning down. We can’t stay.”

Not waiting for a response Thorin started dragging his sister towards the gates leading back into Lowtown.  
  
“Think about Víli,” Thorin growled as she resisted. “And the rest of us who love you.”  
  
“What about the boy!” Dís protested. “He can’t stay here, the Templars will be back for him. And you know about the reward the guards have promised to anyone who turns a Mage in. They might not want to do it but if it’s a stranger’s child or letting their own starve-“  
  
Thorin cursed. “Damn you, but be quick about it then.”  
  
As he released her arm Dís sprinted back towards the shack, her blue skirts billowing out behind her. Thorin glanced towards the gates and then back to the surrounding buildings. There had to be more guards in the Alienage, but hopefully they would not head this way just yet. By all the Ancestors please let them stay away.  
  
“Hurry!” he called to Dís.  
  
“Shut up!” she called back and pressed her hand to the door. It looked flimsy enough that a hard kick should be able to tear it down and Thorin wondered why the Templars hadn’t done just that. Had the boy done something to stop them or did they just think it fun to play with people’s lives.  
  
Dís mouth moved, but if it was to make an enchantment or if she was talking to the boy Thorin was too far away to hear. Regardless, it wasn’t long before the door opened, while at the same time it took an eternity.

The Elven boy, who couldn’t have been more than five considering his size, ran out of the house and straight into Dís’ arms. He was tall enough to make carrying him awkward but Dís didn’t hesitate before picking him up and gently tucking his head into the crook of her neck. So he wouldn’t have to see his mother, Thorin realised.  
  
“This is Legolas,” Dís said with false cheer in her voice as they got close to Thorin who walked up to meet them. “Legolas, this is my brother Thorin.”  
  
“And we’re leaving,” Thorin said gruffly, causing the little boy to glance at him with wide blue eyes and then immediately hide his face against Dís’ neck again. “Give him to me.”  
  
“Sweetie, Thorin is stronger than me,” Dís said when the boy’s grip tightened on her tightened. “And we need to be quick leaving before any comes. Don’t worry, I’ll be right with you. Okay?”  
  
“We don’t-“  
  
“Shut up,” Dís hissed. ”Okay, sweetie?”

The blond head moved slowly up and down in a small nod and Thorin looked behind them again at the gates before impatiently reaching out his arms. As Dís handed him the boy Thorin was inexplicably reminded of the first time he was allowed to hold Frerin. The boy didn’t really look anything like Frerin, even if his brother had also been blue-eyed and blond he’d not had the pale colours of this Elven boy, but even so, his brother was who Thorin was reminded of.

“It’ll be fine,” Thorin heard himself say, attempting a smile down at the boy. The smile, he feared, was pale by half, but the boy still seemed to draw some comfort from it and the words. “And now we need to go. Quickly. Dís stay behind me, but stay close.”  
  
“If you’re carrying the boy you’re going last,” Dís sniffed and headed towards the gates at a brisk pace. “Try and keep up, brother.”  
  
As they left Thorin half-expected someone to stop them, be that a guard or someone who wanted to protest them taking the boy, but no voices called out after them, and so they left.  
  
-  
  
Thorin almost told Dís that she should take the boy and head straight for the city gates. Vili could come later with the coin and supplies. But he didn't suggest it because he knew it would not be a good idea. It would arouse suspicion if Dís left Kirkwall with nothing but the clothes on her back, and carrying an Elven boy. The guards would be more likely to remember her, perhaps even stop her.

No, it was better that she and Víli left together. Dís could hide her hair and the boy could also wear a cowl or something to hide most of his face and his ears and maybe he would be mistaken for their child. Or maybe-

"We can go into Darktown from the basement," Dís said and pulled on Thorin’s sleeve. “Víli should still be at the estate and Bilbo showed me an exit leading out to the Wounded Coast. And we should maybe turn left up there and get into Darktown right now. Will take a little longer, but if anyone is going to look for us they will have a harder time finding us in Darktown. What I wouldn’t give for Bilbo’s ability to walk unseen,” she added in a murmur. “Or to make myself a bird.”

"Fine," Thorin agreed tersely. He tried to keep his pace even and brisk, but not anywhere near a run. That would make people look twice at them. "When we’re at the estate I’m leaving to try and find Bilbo. He needs to-“

"Oh, um." Dís bit her lip. "Nori told me that she was going to ask him to go to their house. Hers and.. Glóin's."

"I'll go there then," Thorin said shortly. "But first you're getting out of Kirkwall."  
  
“But if you keep on moving upwards you’ll get to their house,” Dís protested. “We could-“  
  
“You need to get to safety,” Thorin growled. “Both you and the boy,” he added, thinking that it might sway her.  
  
“That’s low,” Dís hissed..

“Home, quickly, and then you and Víli get packed and leave. I’ll find Bilbo and send word to the others.”  
  
“Thorin we’ve _both_ been to the Alienage before, they must have recognized us.”  
  
“Which is why you’re leaving.”  
  
“You need to come with us,” Dís protested. “You’re not a Mage but they’ll say that you were there. They’ll be looking for you.”  
  
“I’m not leaving without Bilbo,” Thorin said unwaveringly.  
  
“Then I’ll take the boy and we’ll go home and then we’ll leave. And you will get Bilbo, and Nori, unless she wants to go to Dori and Ori, and then you can join us, there’s a cave- we can meet you there. Bilbo will know the way out of Darktown and her knows about the cave too.”  
  
“I know Bilbo,” the little boy said quietly.  
  
“Do you, sweetie?” Dís said and smiled at him as he peered at her from beneath a fluffy blond fringe. The boy nodded.  
  
“He’s nice.”  
  
They’d come to the crossroads where they would have to either turn left for the nearest entrance to Darktown or continue on to get closer to Hightown and Glóin’s- Nori’s now, house. Thorin turned left but Dís stopped, and since his arms were full Thorin could grab her again and drag her. He gritted his teeth.

“We don’t have time for this.”  
  
“Agreed,” Dís said. “Which is why it makes more sense for you to go and get Bilbo and Nori right away while I continue on my way.” She held out her arms for the boy but Thorin didn’t loosen his grip.  
  
“You won’t be able to defend yourself.”  
  
“And you’re not even carrying a sword,” Dís said, exasperation heavy in her voice. “Didn’t think a trip to the markets would end up like this did you?” She lowered her gaze to the Elven boy. “Legolas, sweetie, if I tell you to, will you run and hide?”  
  
The boy nodded without hesitation, small hand clutching the fabric of Thorin’s shirt hard enough that his knuckles were white. “Settled,” Dís said firmly. “Now give him here. And go find Bilbo and Nori.”  
  
“Stay in the shadows,” Thorin growled as he handed the boy back to his sister, and Dís smiled and settled Legolas on her hip.  
  
“If there’s something Darktown is good for, it’s the shadows.”  
  
-  
  
The door to Glóin’s house, or rather Nori’s since she’d inherited everything as his wife, was locked when Thorin tried it and he swore. Lengthy and with great intent before banging a fist against it. They must have left already. Question was if they’d gone to Dori’s or to the estate. Once they might have gone to the Hanged Man, but no one had dared to take it over after Beorn’s death. Let it be unsaid if it was because the news had somehow gotten out that he was a Mage, or if it simply was because they were afraid that he would come back and haunt them.

Thorin banged his fist and against the door again and then his head. Didn’t really matter though. He needed to go and help Dís and Víli get ready. As soon as they were out of Kirkwall he could start looking for-  
  
When the door suddenly opened Thorin almost fell forward into the house.  
  
“Are you trying to break- What’s wrong?” Nori asked as she got a look at Thorin’s face. “You look- what’s happened?” Nori didn’t look too good herself, her eyes were red and her hair was a mess, but Thorin couldn’t care about that at the moment.  
  
“Templars in the Alienage,” Thorin growled and pushed by Nori. “They were after a little boy and Dís revealed herself to be a Mage to countless of Elves when saved him and killed the Templars. Where’s Bilbo?”  
  
“I’m here,” Bilbo said as he walked into the narrow hall. “They know she’s a Mage?”  
  
“If they don’t they’ll know soon,” Thorin said shortly. “The Elves probably owe her their lives but all it takes is one who believes more in what the Chantry teaches than in normal decency and –“  
  
“Or the value of gold,” Nori murmured. “Turning in a Mage pays good money these days. I’ve no doubt the Viscount’s love of coin has made the Templars’ lives a little easier. For someone living in the Alienage it’s a fortune.”

“Dís is heading towards the estate, we need to go and meet her there,” Thorin explained. “She brought the Elven boy from the Alienage. They need to leave Kirkwall as soon as possible.”  
  
“Agreed,” Bilbo said grimly. “And so do you. If you were with Dís then-“  
  
“I’m only leaving if you are leaving,” Thorin said and glared down and Bilbo.  
  
“Argue on the way, boys,” Nori said. “Bilbo, will your little invisibility trick work on another person as well?”  
  
“More than one if they behave,” Bilbo said and gave Thorin a dirty look. “No talking or calling attention to themselves. But no more than-“  
  
“Great,” Nori said and clapped her hands together. “You and Thorin do that then, avoid any Templars, and I’ll meet you there. I need to run by Dori’s first and tell them what’s going on. But it’s better that we all don’t leave at once.”

“What are you waiting for?” she added when they didn’t move. “Go on, get going.”  
  
-  
  
If they hadn’t needed to keep quiet on the way to the estate Thorin and Bilbo would probably have had an argument about how things had changed now that Thorin was also at risk and about what part about ‘not leaving’ it was that Bilbo didn’t understand. But as it were they had to settle with squeezing each other’s hands with varying force as they headed towards Hightown.

It was the most absurd quarrel Thorin had ever had, and a small part of him was amused by it. But it was indeed a small part. This was not the time to be amused. This was not supposed to happen. Dís had kept hidden for so long, first in Erebor, then in Kirkwall. This was not supposed to happen so soon before they could all leave. A few days more and no one would have looked twice at them as they passed the gates. Now they would need to sneak away like thieves in the night.  
  
Leaving Kirkwall had not been a hard decision. But Thorin had no desire to leave the city as if he’d done something wrong, as if Dís had done something wrong simply by being born the way she was. He’d wondered if the Lyrium his father traded could somehow have been responsible for Dís’ magic, but if so, why only her? Why not him and Frerin. And why not the children of the people who mined the Lyrium ore?  
  
And in the end, what did it matter? Dís had magic, it was part of her, but it did not make her anything other than his sister.

Thorin headed towards the front door, but Bilbo pulled at his arm and Thorin turned his head to look at him, of course seeing nothing but air; his hand holding nothing but air.  
  
When Bilbo had cast the spell Thorin had been relieved that he’d still been able to see himself, but it had quickly gotten disturbing as he couldn’t help but wonder if the spell still lasted or if the people wandering the streets of Kirkwall could now see him again. Considering the amount of stairs they’d needed to climb to get to Hightown it was just as well that he’d been able to see his feet. Falling on his face would be a perfect way to make this day even better.  
  
Not understanding Thorin still followed when Bilbo led him towards the back of the house. When Bilbo moved towards a large flowering bush Thorin caught on and hurried his steps. Safely hidden behind the green leaves and bright orange flowers Thorin squeezed Bilbo’s hand, and then let it go, and then a short moment later Bilbo appeared to pop into existence in front of his eyes.  
  
“You realise that if anyone is watching they will realise they never saw us go behind the house,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“It’s a lot less suspicious than an invisible force opening the front door,” Bilbo shot back. “But yes, there is a reason why I prefer to arrive through your basement. I’ll turn myself invisible again and follow behind you. Do not be so quick to close the door behind you.”  
  
“It’s lucky Father found this particular house.” Thorin sighed and began to walk back to the front of the house. He looked warily at the street leading up to it, but it was empty. It was close to noon and it would seem as if their neighbours had already left to do whatever it was that they did during the days, or perhaps they had already returned and were about to sit down and their midday meal.  
  
“Dís! Víli” Thorin yelled as he opened the door.

“Not as lucky as you think,” Bilbo said absentmindedly as he followed behind Thorin, the door falling shut behind them without needing to be touched.  
  
“Dís!” Thorin called again as he moved into the house. “What do you mean by that,” Thorin added to his lover.  
  
“There are many houses even here in Hightown which leads to Darktown,” Bilbo explained. “Certainly more than you think. Ages ago, when this city belonged to the Tevinter Empire, before it was even known as Kirkwall, there were more slaves than free people living here. They all lived in the slums below, in what is now Lowtown and Darktown. But they needed to be able to go up here, to their Masters.”  
  
“If they were able to come and go as they wanted, why didn’t they just run?” Thorin asked and looked into the kitchen. He didn’t think that he’d find anyone there and he didn’t. “Dís! Víli! Where are you?!”  
  
“There was nowhere to run to,” Bilbo said simply and sighed. “But then they rebelled. And they realised that together they were stronger than their masters and that’s how Kirkwall was born.” In a more quiet voice he added. “History always seem to repeat itself. The good with the bad.”  
  
Thorin was just about to yell again when Víli wandered out of his and Dís’ room, raising his hand to cover a yawn and hair going every which way.  
  
“Some of us were up late last night,” he gently scolded Thorin. “And if you don’t stop yelling I’ll tell you exactly what your sister did to keep me awa-“  
  
“Is Dís with you?” Thorin asked, even though he already knew that the answer would be no. If Dís had been here Víli would have been asleep.  
  
“She’s not with you?” Víli blinked. “She said you were going to go to the markets?”  
  
Thorin swore and ran for the basement.  
  
“What is going on?” Víli demanded, now looking a lot more awake. “Where is she then if she’s not with you? What’s-“  
  
“She used magic in public,” Thorin growled. “In front of what could very well have been dozens of Elves. She was going to go here, via the tunnels in Darktown.” His jaw clenched. “Something must have happened.”  
  
“No,” Víli protested. “She knew she wasn’t supposed to do something like that, why would she use magic?”  
  
“To save a little boy’s life.” Thorin threw open the door leading down into the basement. “He might be a Mage, the Templars thought him one at least, and his mother had just been killed. Which makes it impossible for me to yell at her. But the Stone help me I believe I’m going to try it anyway when I find her.”

The tunnel that led down into Darktown had never seemed so long before, even with Thorin almost running down it.  
  
The hidden door, albeit not so hidden from this side of it, was wrenched open without care about if anyone would be on the other side of it, and true enough, Thorin had only taken two steps outside it before something crashed into his legs.

The Dwarf had time to curse himself for not thinking to bring his sword before he realised that it was only the Elven boy, Legolas, who had attached himself to his hip.  
  
“-dn’t reach the lock,” the boy sniffed. “ _They_ came and she told me where to run so I didn't hide and I runned and I don’t know where I was and I hearded yelling but I don’t look back and I want my mother!"  
  
As the boy’s sniffing turned into sobs Thorin numbly bent down and took him into his arms. A thousand thoughts racing in his mind Thorin turned to look at Víli and Bilbo.

Víli had braced himself against the wall, uncaring of the dirt and damp covering it, and even with the poor lightening Thorin could see that he was as pale as the belly of a cave fish. Bilbo’s face Thorin couldn’t read at all, his expression blank of all emotion.  
  
“They’ve got Dís,” Víli managed, his voice tight and frail and small, much like the child sobbing into Thorin’s shoulder.

“They’ve got a _war_ ,” Bilbo said coolly, and his eyes flashed white and blue.


	25. Chapter Thirteen – Showdown

“They will have taken her to Denethor. You should all stay here,” Bilbo said calmly when they’d all entered the basement to the estate again. “I’ll-“  
  
“No,” Thorin growled and strode towards the stairs. He had pushed the still weeping child into Víli’s arms on their way up from Darktown. Víli would take good care of him.   
  
Before Thorin reached even the first step he hit an invisible wall. Or rather a barrier of some sort. As he pushed against it he could feel it give way, but it didn’t break.  
  
“Thorin-“ Bilbo began and the Dwarf in question whirled around snarl at him.  
  
“She’s my _sister_! I’m getting her back, and I’m not about to lose you in the process.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Bilbo said and his composure made Thorin grit his teeth and bang his fist against the closest wall.

“Let me go, or by the Ancestors I will _never_ forgive you, Bilbo.”  
  
A crack appeared in Bilbo’s calm mask. “Thorin, I-“  
  
“I mean it,” Thorin swore. “I will not stop loving you, I can’t stop that any more than I can stop breathing. But I will not forgive you if you trap me in here for my own good while you go and do something-“

There was a small pop behind him and Thorin turned on his heel and continued to walk towards the now unblocked stair case.  
  
“If she’s still- They will have taken her to the Gallows,” Bilbo said behind him as Thorin started to climb the stairs. “To Denethor. Thorin, you won’t be able to-“  
  
“And what will you do?” Thorin and spun around. Bilbo was standing at the bottom step, hand pressed against the wall. “Bilbo if you go they will just take you too. I can’t-“ his voice broke and Thorin clenched his fists. “I can’t lose you too. I have failed my brother, my father, I will _not_ fail my sister. I will not fail you. They will not have either of you.”  
  
“I’m coming with you,” Bilbo said and raised his chin. “Or rather, you appear to be coming with me.”  
  
“Bilbo, they will-“  
  
“They can try,” Bilbo interrupted. “But if something happens to me, or to you, or to Dís, the Gallows will not survive it.”  
  
“You-“ Thorin blinked. “Bilbo what are you saying?”  
  
“That I have what the Orcs used to level the barracks with the ground,” Bilbo explained and met Thorin’s eyes levelly. “I’ve got that same powder. Barrels full of it. Beneath the Gallows. One word from me, one spark of fire-" Bilbo held up his hand and a small flame flashed into the palm of his hand. "- and the Gallows, and all the Templars in them will-“  
  
“There are still Mages in the Gallows,” Víli said slowly as he came to stand behind Bilbo. He was still holding the boy who had his hands fisted in Víli’s hair.   
  
“Sacrifices is necessary in war,” Bilbo said firmly as he turned around to look at Víli. But even though his words and voice made him out to be convinced of what he was saying, the tremor in his hands betrayed him. “And most of them have been made Tranquil. Dying is better than remaining such. I was going to do this before we left anyway. Without Templars, and without a prison, they will not be able to-“  
  
“The Chantry would not stand for this.” Víli shook his head. “They might even-“

“It’s time to pick a side,” Bilbo said as he held is head high. “The Templars have, the Mages left in the Gallows have. The world needs to be next. This won’t be like when they killed all the Mages in the Ferelden Circle, or when they sank the ships out in the bay. This will be too big for them to-”  
  
“What’s going on?” Nori asked from behind Thorin and he whirled around to face her. Standing at the top of the stairs Nori’s face was half-hidden in the shadows, but her hair was being lit from behind and glowed copper-gold around her head.   
  
“Why aren’t you all half-way to somewhere which isn’t Kirkwall by now?”  
  
“Dís didn’t make it to the house,” Thorin said shortly and began walking up the stairs again. “The boy got here and he saw her get taken by the Templars. I’m going to-“  
  
“ _I’m_ going to,” Bilbo corrected. “Thorin, listen to me. You-“  
  
“Are you stupid?” Nori asked, and both Thorin and Bilbo paused, not sure if she was referring to one or the both of them. “Bilbo, you need to let Thorin go and talk to the Knight-Commander. No, let me finish,” she added when Bilbo made a protesting noise. “Dís is a _Dwarf_. Dwarves are not supposed to have magic. Unless she used magic when they caught her they won’t have seen her do anything magical. It might be possible to talk the Templars into believing that this is all a big mistake. If you come along raging about how they need to let her go that’s not going to work is it. But if Thorin-“  
  
“I’ll let the two of you finish discussing this as I go to the Gallows,” Thorin said and pushed past Nori as he walked out into the hall. “I’m going to go and get my sister back. Someone needs to stay here with the child.”  
  
“Thorin wait!” Bilbo called and Thorin could hear the sound of him running up the stairs. Walking into the main hall Thorin snagged his sword belt and quickly secured it around his waist. “Thorin!”  
  
“Bilbo, let him go,” Nori said. “He can’t be seen with you right now if he’s going to-“  
  
“They’re not going to _listen_!” Bilbo protested. “Denethor would- even if Dís wasn’t a Mage he is paranoid enough to-“  
  
“I’m not denying that something needs to change,” Thorin said without looking back. “But I’m not letting my sister be the first victim of your war.” Not waiting for a reply he opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine.   
  
“A _war_?” Nori asked behind him. “Bilbo _what_ is he talking about?”  
  
Whatever Bilbo replied Thorin was too far away to hear it.   
  
-  
  
Thorin was almost out of Hightown before Nori caught up with him.  
  
“I am _sick_ of people dying,” she said shortly as she fell into step with him. “And if I let Bilbo make a hole in Dori’s town I’ll never hear the end of it.”  
  
“Right,” she continued when Thorin didn’t acknowledge her even with a glance. “If Denethor believes that Dís is a Mage he should have her sent to Orlais to be investigated or possibly keep her here until the Chantry can send someone. The first Dwarven Mage… that’s going to interest a lot of people. And the Templars who got her will have made sure to take her alive.”  
  
It hadn’t even occurred to Thorin before then that Dís might have gotten killed when trying to avoid being captured and the thought chilled his blood.  
  
“If she was smart, and your sister _is_ smart,” Nori went on to say. “She won’t have used magic when they found her. And maybe we can do as I first suggested and talk our way out of this. Who cares about what a few Elves said anyway, yeah? Either way, we will have a chance to-“  
  
“Denethor won’t send her away,” came Bilbo’s voice from the air to Thorin’s right. “He might have once, but as the Grand Cleric has not said a word to stop him thus far, he won’t care one whit what the Divine all the way in Orlais might have to say about a Dwarven Mage. That she's a Mage will be enough, he'll want her dead. The time for talking has long passed. It’s time to _act_.”  
  
“If you destroy the Gallows, and we, _and_ Dís, happen to be standing right outside the Gallows-” Nori hissed. “Don’t you think that would be somewhat of a problem?”  
  
There was a short hesitant silence and Thorin thought that if Bilbo would say something about sacrifices again he might do something rash. Thorin would gladly give his life for his sisters, and for Bilbo’s, but _their_ deaths were not even close to being something like an acceptable loss, no matter what Bilbo hoped to gain by it.  
  
“The black powder is not only beneath the Gallows,” Bilbo said finally. “I found the barrels in Darktown when I had to move my clinic. Those of the Orcs who managed to escape must not have known about them. Moving the barrels was easy enough. Darktown stretches beneath the entire city. And finding a spell that will spark a fire over a great distance wasn't very hard either.”  
  
“Where did you move the barrels?” Nori demanded. “Beneath the Gallows and-“  
  
“Beneath the Chantry.”  
  
“That’s-“ Nori was at a loss for words. “You really do mean to start a war.”  
  
“And _I_ ,” Thorin growled. “Mean to get my sister back. Alive.”  
  
-  
  
When Thorin walked through the gates leading into the Gallows’ courtyard he was not alone. But neither Nori nor Bilbo was to be found at his side as both of them had slipped away somewhere in Lowtown, and Thorin could only hope that whatever they were planning on doing it wouldn’t risk Dís’ life.   
  
Instead of his friend and lover, hundreds of people moved with him to get into the courtyard, and hundreds more were already gathered in the square.   
  
At first Thorin assumed that it was for the market, that perhaps a ship carrying rare goods had arrived to the docks and that had prompted the rush of people, but he soon realised that was not the case.   
  
“- MAGE KILLED THREE TEMPLARS AND THEN FLED FROM-“  
  
“That’s a Dwarf he’s got up there,” a man next to Thorin murmured to the woman next to him. “Dwarves haven’t got no more magic than the magic I have. I know the Knight-Commander has-“  
  
“Isn’t that the sister of the Champion?” another voice queried from somewhere to Thorin’s right.  
  
“Maybe? Can’t see her face. Thought they had-“  
  
“-CAN’T BE SHOWN MERCY. INSTEAD SHE WILL BE EXECUTED-“   
  
“No,” Thorin breathed and started pushing past the people, moving towards the wide stairways leading up to the Gallows.   
  
Most people, when they saw who he was, moved to let him pass, some giving him polite nods, some looking at him with wariness, or pity.   A few asked him questions but Thorin ignored them all. A sudden gap in the people in front of him allowed him to see the Knight-Commander standing at the small plateau just before the last set of stair before the gates leading into the fortress. His silvered armour gleamed white in the sunlight and Thorin’s heart stopped when he glimpsed Dís being held between two Templars, her head slumped down towards her chest . She did not look to be conscious, and if the Templars had not had such firm grips on her arms she would most likely have tumbled to the ground. Behind them there were even more Templars, and there were more still standing in front of the crowd to keep them from climbing the stairs.  
  
“LET MY SISTER GO!” Thorin shouted and the people around him quieted and turned to look at him. “Out of my way,” Thorin growled, and almost as if by magic the people parted and allowed him to walk to the bottom of the first stairway.   
  
“Please return to the crowd,” A Templar told him, moving to stand in his way.  
  
“Not without my sister,” Thorin said and placed his hand on his sword. “What gives you the right to treat her like-“  
  
“Yeah, she’s a ruddy _Dwarf_!” someone in crowd called. “They don’t even have magic, and she’s such a lil’ thing I hardly think-“  
  
“Did you really have to knock her unconscious to-“  
  
“Oakenshield killed the leader of the Orcs!” another shouted, as if that was relevant to what was happening here, and perhaps it was to him.  
  
“Silence!” the Templar called.   
  
“Let me sister go,” Thorin repeated and glared up at the Mage. “She’s done nothing wrong.” Killing the Templars and the two guards certainly hadn’t been wrong considering that they had been about to kill a child and likely burn down the Alienage in the process.   
  
A disgruntled murmur rose from the crowd and Thorin took a step forward, prompting the Templar to pull his sword.  
  
“He’s going to attack the hero of Kirkwall!” someone called and the murmur built into a low roar. For the first time ever Thorin was actually glad that Nori’s stories had made him out to be something that he wasn’t. If it would help Dís he would lie and say that he killed Azog and all the Dragons in the world and a thousand Darkspawn besides.   
  
“SILENCE!”  
  
Thorin lifted his gaze to Denethor as the Knight-Commander strode down the stairs. His expression beneath the golden band circling his brow was stern and forbidding, but Thorin did not let himself be cowed.  
  
“After Azog’s death this man came to me and accused me of having been involved in the murder of the Viscount!” Thorin shouted to the crowd without taking his eyes off Denethor. “And now his men have captured my sister and accuse her of being a Mage!   
  
“All are alike before the law!” Denethor called. “Especially the laws of the Maker. It does not matter who’s sister she is!”  
  
“But Dwarves aren’t Mages!” a tall, blond man yelled.   
  
“I was as surprised as you,” Denethor replied. “But I assure you that this one is. Perhaps your _hero_ is one too. His father associated with a _Blood Mage_ from Tevinter which led to his death. And now the sister-“  
  
“How dare you!” Thorin roared. “My father only wanted to help this city, to make it better. He didn’t know-“  
  
“Then do you agree that magic is something that we need to watch for?” Denethor demanded.   
  
“No,” Thorin growled. “What we need to watch for is those who would abuse their power to do evil deeds. How many innocents died when your men, on _your_ orders, destroyed the three ships carrying Mages away from Kirkwall? Mages who had done nothing-”  
  
“Anyone helping apostates is _not_ innocent,” Denethor barked. “And all who watched that day saw them summoning demons as they realised that they would be caught. One of them turned into an abomination that destroyed a large section of Darktown before it was stopped. Magic corrupts anyone and anything it touches. We have all seen it.”  
  
And just like that, the mood of the crowd changed from anger to grudging acceptance.   
  
“But she’s a Dwarf!” someone called again, but now the protest was only half-hearted.   
  
“Wake her,” Denethor order to one of the Templars holding Dís, and the man reached into a pouch and pulled out a vial of blue liquid and the other Templar pulled her head back to allow for the contents of the vial to be tipped into her mouth.  
  
The effect was almost instantaneous and Dís’ shuddered and opened her eyes to blink dazedly down at the crowd. As her eyes found Thorin they widened in surprise.  
  
“What-?”  
  
“The Maker has given us the power to temporarily purge a Mage of their taint,” Denethor said and ignored her. “So if she’s not a Mage this will not affect her.”  
  
The two Templars holding her straightened and immediately afterwards Dís cried out and struggled weakly against their hold.   
  
“As you can see,” Denethor said coldly. “She is not unaffected. And as we have had a witness come forward saying that she’s used her magic to _kill_ -“  
  
“I never would have believed it,” someone behind Thorin muttered.  
  
“Imagine, a _Dwarf_!” another one said in a shocked voice.

Thorin bared his teeth and drew his sword. “You will _not_ kill my sister.”  
  
“It is hard to understand now,” Denethor said, and to Thorin’s surprise the Knight-Commander’s voice sounded almost sympathetic. “But you’ll come to know it’s for the best. Mages are what first brought the Maker’s disfavour upon us and this world. Without magic, there can finally be peace.”  
  
He had no sooner finished speaking before the ground beneath them shook and a great and horrible crash; like a hundred thunderclaps, burst forward into the world. The cry from the people gathered behind Thorin was almost as deafening once they’d realised what had happened.  
  
As Hightown towered above Lowtown, the Kirkwall Chantry had towered over the lavish estates of Hightown and as such over the rest of the city. But no more. Where it had stood there was now ruins partially obscured by clouds of smoke and dust.  

“The Maker have mercy,” Denethor whispered as he stared up in disbelief, and amongst the crowd people were openly weeping.  
  
“There can be no peace!”  
  
“Bilbo?” Thorin breathed.

“You say there will be peace without magic, but what just happened anyone could have done!”   
  
Thorin looked around as Bilbo’s voice again rang out over the courtyard, but it was impossible to tell where it had come from, and he couldn’t see his lover anywhere.  
  
“When Azog sold people in slavery, killed the Viscount and destroyed the barracks he needed no magic! When the Templars raped and abused the Mages under their care, they needed no magic. And every day, thousands of people like day do similar things all over Thedas. What you need to fear is not Mages. It’s evil. In all its forms.”  
  
“Such evil as destroying the Chantry and killing Grand Cleric Haleth?” Denethor spat, as he snapped his head from side to side in an attempt to see who was speaking. “She was a kind and pious woman.”  
  
“Kind? By looking the other way as you did as you pleased with the Mages that were supposedly beneath her protection? As you treated them as animals. And _slaves_. How many did you turn Tranquil, Denethor? And how many more did you order to have killed? More than the number of people who died when you allowed a demon into Darktown?”  
  
“Show yourself, Mage!” Denethor demanded. He gestured to the two Templars still holding Dís. “Or it will be one more.”

Thorin drew after breath as Bilbo flashed into view next to him on the stairs, and above Dís weakly shook her head and blinked back her tears. “Are you insane?” Thorin demanded and moved to pull Bilbo behind himself. “He’ll only kill both of you now.”  
  
“ _You_!” Denethor snarled and drew his longsword.  
  
“Me,” Bilbo agreed and raised his hand, and Denethor abruptly found himself floating upside down a good twenty feet over the stairs, bands of white light wrapped around his body. “I’d suggest no one tries to purge my magic or the Knight-Commander here will most likely meet an unfortunate end. Helmets-,” Bilbo added to Thorin in an almost conversational tone. “They have their uses.”  
  
As all other Templars gathered outside the Gallows were indeed wearing their helmets Thorin couldn’t read their expressions, but the way they shifted and turned to glance at one another did seem to indicate that they had no wish to see their commander’s head crushed against the unforgiving stone below their feet.   
  
On the contrary, the burning look of hate in Denethor’s eyes seemed to indicate that he would gladly have met his end if it would have meant the same fate for Bilbo, but either he realised the insanity of such a decision or something in the magic Bilbo used prevented him from acting. Still, Bilbo would not be able to keep this up forever. If only one Templar snapped and decided to purge his magic, it might mean the end for Denethor, but it would also mean the end for Bilbo.   
  
And while the crowd behind them still appeared to be frozen in shock, it was not out of the question that someone who cared little for Denethor, and also didn’t care about Mages, would decide to act.  
  
It shouldn’t even have worked in the first place, if not for the Templars being too distracted by the destruction of the Chantry to try and make cleanse the entire area around them from magic when Bilbo had still been invisible and speaking to them.  
  
“Best take this away,” Bilbo said absently and waved his hand. “Before you hurt someone else.”   
  
Denethor’s sword tumbled to the ground with a metallic clatter, and and as it did so, next to Thorin, Bilbo stiffened and sucked in a breath. “It can’t be…”  
  
“Bilbo?” Thorin questioned. “What-?”  
  
“Where would he- And why-“  
  
“No,” Thorin protested when Bilbo took a step forward. “Bilbo, what-“  
  
“It _is_ ,” Bilbo whispered and Denethor’s sword shuddered once before clanking and clanging down the stairs towards them. Not until it stopped at their feet Thorin realised what had caught Bilbo’s attention so.   
  
It was the stone from the Deep Roads, set into the pommel of Denethor’s longsword.   
  
“I should have felt it,” Bilbo said absently. “Why did I not feel it? How could he have gotten it? And why did he-“ Licking his lips Bilbo shook his head. “No matter. Well at least I know what to expect now.”  
  
With that he bent down and touched his fingers to the stone, and unlike what had happened down in the Deep Roads there was no flash of light, and Bilbo did not go tumbling down the stairs. Instead the metal surrounding the stone melted away, allowing Bilbo to pick the gem up.   
  
It had been beautiful enough down in the Deep Roads, but in the sunlight it was beyond words. The longer Thorin let his eyes rest at it, the more it felt like he should be the one holding it. It was too big for Bilbo anyway, but it would sit perfectly in one of Thorin’s palms.   
  
“Bilbo, no!” Dís called. “No, you said it was dangerous!”  
  
“Oh it’s very dangerous,” Bilbo agreed and shuddered. “I will need to destroy it. But first, I think I will need it for something else.”

If it was those words, or Dís’ warning that prompted one of the Templars into action was impossible to know but only when the man drew his sword did Thorin snap out of the spell the stone seemed to have cast on him.  
  
“Everyone, cleanse the area!” he shouted and raised his sword skywards. “You at the foot of the stairs, prepare to catch the Knight-Commander.”  
  
It was clear that the Templars did as they had been told because Dís cried out as if in pain. But next to Thorin Bilbo did not seem concerned, and much to the apparent confusion of the Templars who had rushed to catch him, Denethor did not fall down on them. Seemingly bewildered they looked up at him, then down at Bilbo.  
  
“I think not,” Bilbo said mildly and the group of Templars suddenly joined Denethor up in the air. The two Templars at Dís’ side were flung away from her as if pushed by the invisible hands of a giant and when Bilbo started climbing the stairs Thorin followed.   
  
“Demon!” The accusation came from the Mage who had prompted everyone to purge the courtyard of magic. He know had his sword pointed at Bilbo, and Thorin immediately moved to put himself in the way as the man took a step closer to them.  
  
The word ‘demon’ was what finally broke the crowd of people out of their frozen state and from one moment to the next they were all running and screaming, crying and pleading for their lives.   
  
“No!” Bilbo snapped and held the stone up above his head. “You’ll hurt yourselves. Stop!”   
  
And the people did, as did the Templars who had moved towards the two of them.   
  
In the silence that followed the sound of Bilbo’s footsteps as he resumed climbing the steps seemed to echo across the courtyard. Not knowing what else to do, Thorin followed.   
  
Dís gave Bilbo a wary look as they reached her and the blond sighed. “I know, Dís. I know. And I will.”  
  
“Did- did you just read my thoughts?” Dís asked and bit her lip.   
  
Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t mean to.”   
  
Dís let out a slightly hysterical giggle at that. “Bilbo, what _are_ you doing?”  
  
“Something I hope I won’t regret,” Bilbo murmured. “I had hoped finding the stone would show me the future. Like it did before. But perhaps that will only happen when I dream…” He closed his eyes and shuddered. And when he opened again they were pure white, the hazel and black erased completely. “It doesn’t matter.”

Cradling the stone against his chest with one hand Bilbo reached out the free one to Dís, and after a moment’s hesitation she took it. The stone pulsed white, and when Thorin opened eyes he’d not been conscious of closing it was to the sight of his sister looking a great deal healthier than she’d done a moment ago. Thorin had not realised how pale she’d been before the pink was once again back into her cheeks.  
  
“My magic is back,” Dís whispered and squeezed Bilbo’s hand. “Thank you. It was- To be without it was like losing a piece of myself.”  
  
Bilbo nodded and returned the squeeze before letting go. “It’s how you were meant to be.”  
  
“Bilbo,” Thorin said helplessly, feeling even more lost when his lover looked at him with eyes that should have been hazel but now weren’t.   
  
“Almost done,” Bilbo promised and gave Thorin a small smile. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” Thorin said. “Bilbo, what-“  
  
“I’m going to change the world,” Bilbo replied to the question Thorin hadn’t asked, and his smile faded into something wistful. “Let’s hope you were right when you told Dís that any change would be for the better.” He turned back to Dís. “And that your faith in me is not unwarranted, even though I fear it is.”   
  
Squaring his shoulders Bilbo looked out over the hundreds and hundreds of people that stood as still as statues in the courtyard, at the Templars frozen, both on the ground and in the air.

“Enough,” Bilbo said quietly, and one by one the Templars returned to the ground. “Knight-Commander, would you tell everyone why you decided to have a magical stone fixed to your sword?”  
  
Denethor gritted his teeth, and when he spoke the word sounded as if they were pulled from him by force. “Confiscated it from a mad Dwarf.”  
  
Thorin closed his eyes in pain. So that was how Bluebeard had lost the stone. If Denethor hadn't taken it, would Glóin still be with them?  
  
“Magical items are forbidden. Kept it as reminder that magic can be controlled.”  
  
“Yes, somehow you did, control” Bilbo mused. “At least conceal it. I did not feel it until the sword fell from your hand. Do you realise what I could do with it now that I have it?”  
  
Denethor glared up at him but didn’t answer and Bilbo did not press him for one. Instead he sighed. 

“We fear what we do not understand, so I guess it’s little wonder that you don’t fear death.”  
  
“Do your worst, Mage,” Denethor spat. “Whatever you do will prove me right. All Mages are too dangerous to be allowed to live.”  
  
“We’ll see,” Bilbo replied and closed his eyes. “You are about to become one.”  
  
White flames spread from Bilbo like wings, and a golden-white light surrounded each and every one of the Templars in the courtyard. Thorin had to turn his face away because to look at them felt like staring into the sun. Or something even brighter because in comparison the light shining down from the sky seemed as pale as the moon in comparison to the rays of the sun.   
  
When the light enveloped the rest of the people in the courtyard as well Thorin needed to cover his eyes with his hands.  
  
But only for a moment. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and blinking Thorin turned back just in time to watch Bilbo fall to his knees, the stone; now dark and dull, tumbling from his hands and down onto the stairs where it shattered into thousands of black shards upon its second impact against the stone.

“Bilbo.” Thorin rushed forward followed by his sister. Neither of them noticed how all Templars slumped to the ground, unconscious, or how the crowd of people in the courtyard once again began to move as the spell Bilbo had woven around them faded together with the golden light.

“I think it worked,” Bilbo told Thorin as the Dwarf dropped to his knees beside him. His eyes were hazel once again and he smiled up at Thorin. “On the others too. But the ones who aren’t Templars, I tried to heal them." Bilbo swallowed. "And I found the Tranquil too, the ones in the Gallows. They’re-“ he frowned. “They’re back. Some will not want to go on, what has been done to them- But at least they’ll have the choice now. Tell them I’m sorry. I wish I…” Bilbo’s eyes fluttered close and his voice faded into a soft sigh.   
  
“Bilbo?” Thorin gathered him into his arms. “Bilbo?”  
  
Hazel eyes fluttered open again and blinked slowly up at Thorin. “At least, this did not- not happen like my dream. You’re safe. That’s... good.”  
  
“Bilbo?” Thorin’s hands tightened on Bilbo’s arms as the blond closed his eyes again. “Bilbo. Bilbo wake up.”   
But Bilbo didn't.


	26. Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of suicide.

“And then?”  
  
“Bilbo would not wake up,” Ori said slowly. “A man from the crowd approached them and Dís prepared to fight, but all the man did was to ask if what Bilbo had said was true. If the Mages had been treated as poorly as Bilbo had said. Dís nodded shakily and told him that it was true. That it was all true. The man nodded back at her. ‘I knew it. I felt it when the light came.’ He sighed. ‘I had a sister in the Circle,’ he said. ‘I loved her,’ he said. Then he nodded at Dís again and went back down the stairs. No one stopped them as Thorin carried Bilbo out of there.”  
  
She bit her lip. “I don’t know what Bilbo did, but most of the people who have told me about that day think that the golden light came from the Maker. That Bilbo did his will. Though I’m sure the Templars would disagree. Most of them killed themselves during the first days after waking up.”  
  
Denethor had been one of them. He'd set himself on fire. Ori was fairly sure it had been on purpose.  
  
Many of the people who had been Tranquils before Bilbo had somehow managed to change them back had also killed themselves. But not before the word had spread about what horrors they had gone through. Those who were left, Mages and Templars both, had been taken away from Kirkwall on a ship. Probably to Orlais to be questioned. 

“You understand that what the Mage did that day is not supposed to be possible?”  
  
Ori rubbed at her eyes. “Well, he paid the price for it,” she said quietly and sniffed. “When Thorin and Dís showed up at our place, Bilbo was no longer breathing.”

It was the biggest lie Ori had ever told even as it was terrifyingly close to the truth. Bilbo had still been breathing, but so slowly that the pause between each breath had seemed an eternity, and the space between each heartbeat had been more than ten of Ori’s own. For all of that, it had been obvious that he had still been alive, because he had _glowed_.

They had all been waiting for them, Víli and the little Elven boy as well. Nori had brought them and then left again, only to come back after the Chantry was destroyed. She’d not left again after that, only paced back and forth like a caged animal. When Thorin and Dís had rushed in Nori had taken one look at Bilbo and then told Thorin that they needed to take Bilbo to his people.  
  
What had followed after that had been the most confusing, bewildering and horrible hour of Ori’s life, and at the end of it she knew everything that had happened that day, that Hobbits were real, that Nori had known about Bilbo’s past almost straight from the start – “I’m not _stupid_ ,” she’d spat at Thorin. “But he didn’t want me to know so I pretended that I didn’t.” – and Ori had known that Nori, Thorin, Dís and Víli were leaving to try and save Bilbo’s life, and she’d known that Dori and Dwalin was going to stay because of the babe, and that she was going to stay too even though it felt like her heart would split itself in two from the pain of it.  
  
Ori sniffed again and brushed a tear away from her cheek. She wasn’t sure if she was crying because of how it had felt to know that she might never see Nori and her friends again, or because she had no idea of if they’d made it. If Bilbo was all right.

“And they didn’t tell you where they were going?” the Seeker asked.

“I’ve already told you that I don’t know,” Ori said and met the Seeker’s eyes evenly. She wasn’t even lying now. She _had_ told the woman that she didn’t know. But _that_ had been the lie.  
  
“And they brought the Elven boy with them?”  
  
Ori nodded. The boy, Legolas, had no living family in Kirkwall, but he’d told them that his father actually lived in Ferelden. His mother had said so, even if she hadn’t explained how they had come to be in the Kirkwall Alienage without him. He'd asked to come with them and Dís had agreed before anyone else had the time to even form an opinion.  
  
“Where did you bury him?”  
  
Ori almost asked who before she realised that the Seeker must mean Bilbo.  
  
“You’re not going to- to disturb him, are you?” Ori said and tried to sound as hesitant as possible. “That’s not, that would be wrong.”  
  
“Just tell me.”  
  
“Not before you promise.”  
  
“Fine,” the Seeker sighed. “I promise.”  
  
“They took him with them as they left,” Ori said reluctantly. “Nori said they would bury him at the foot of Sundermount.”  
  
“They were planning on going north then?” the Seeker asked.  
  
“I don’t know,” Ori replied even as she inwardly prayed that the Seeker would assume this meant that they’d gone to Antiva or Rivain, or even Tevinter. “They just couldn’t stay. And those of us who stayed couldn’t leave.”  
  
The Seeker hummed. “I see. Thank you for the story. You are free to go now.”  
  
Ori looked up at the woman and blinked. “I am?”  
  
Ioreth nodded. “Yes. I told you that you would be after your story. And since we’ve now come to the end of it, you may go.”  
  
Ori did not waste time asking again and instead slipped down from the chair and walked towards the door.  
  
“Good bye, little one,” the Seeker said as Ori touched her hand to the door knob. “Perhaps we will meet again.”  
  
“I don’t see why we would,” Ori said and opened the door. A shadow removed itself from the wall and glared down at her. Ori did her best to glare back up at the guard, because now that she felt convinced that she’d not end up in a bush she really felt how her arms ached from being grabbed so roughly before.  
  
“Take her outside and let her go,” the Seeker said, and the guard’s glare intensified. Ori just barely resisted sticking her tongue out at him.

“I know the way,” she said instead and moved around him to the top of the stairs. As she walked down she wondered if it wouldn’t be best to leave after all. Or this meant that they would be safe, or as safe as it was possible to be, in Kirkwall. It wouldn’t be safe to try and follow their others into the Brecilian forest, but perhaps they could go to Orzammar. The treasure they had left would be more than enough to smooth most of the rough edges, especially if what they heard about Orzammar’s new king was true, that he held opinions similar to Dwalin’s when it came to the castes and what needed to be done to avoid their race dying out within the next few generations.

Of course their leaving would depend on if Dori ever allowed her to leave the house again, Ori thought with wry amusement, and hurried her steps.  
  
-  
  
The Seeker watched as the young Dwarf scampered down the road with quick steps, and as she disappeared out of sight she let the curtain fall back into place. Without rushing the Seeker walked down the stairs and turned right towards the kitchen, the two guards following behind her. A third guard stood in front of the kitchen door with his back facing the hallway, and he only moved when the Seeker gently tapped his shoulder.  
  
“Your sister told me much the same story as you did,” Ioreth declared as she walked into the kitchen.  
  
“Of course,” Nori said and scratched her neck, her fingers rubbing at the lines of her tattoos. “What did you expect?”  
  
“I expect that you are both telling me the same lie,” the Seeker said shortly. “You and your friends were seen in Highever. And unless they were _still_ carrying the Mage’s dead body I think he was not nearly as dead as you would have us believe when they left Kirkwall.”

“Your sources must be mistaken,” Nori shrugged. “If we went to Highever why did you catch me coming back on the road from Antiva?”  
  
“The road from Antiva is also the road from Ostwick,” the Seeker pointed out. “If you’ve been in Antiva then why did one of my men find Ferelden sovereigns sewn into your clothes and not a single Antivan Andris in your purse or pockets?”  
  
Nori licked her lips. “The sad lack of Dwarves in Antiva makes me really distrustful of the amount of gold in their coins. Sovereigns on the other hand-“  
  
“I don’t believe you,” the Seeker said and narrowed her eyes at Nori. “Shall I tell you why I _know_ that you are lying?”

“You never get anywhere in the Chantry ranks by being a trusting person?” Nori suggested. “Bit ironic don’t you think, considering that the Chantry is fairly reliant on people having faith. And speaking about faith, do you think, with time, that Bilbo can be some sort of new Andraste? Chosen by the Maker and-”  
  
“I know that the Mage isn’t human.”  
  
Nori froze, only for the amount of time between two heartbeats but it did not go unnoticed by the Seeker. “Well, if you’re only now realising that Dís is a Dwarf I’m afraid-“  
  
“Stop playing games,” the Seeker growled. “You will show us the way to the Mage’s kind, and-“ the Seeker smirked. “If we happen to find other familiar faces there I will simply not be able to contain my surprise. As long as the Mage is alive Oakenshield won’t abandon him. That you are here-“ she shrugged. “That might mean that he’s died, but it might not. You could have planned on visiting your sisters and then returning. And travelling to Ostwick by ship instead of directly to Kirkwall would only seem reasonable for someone wanting to come into the city unnoticed by all.”  
  
“I can’t show you the way to a place I have never been,” Nori said and narrowed her eyes.  
  
“How unfortunate because that means that your sisters will die.”  
  
“What?!” Nori got to her feet only to dragged back down again by the guard who had moved to stand behind her chair. “You can’t do that.”  
  
“If you won’t come with me I most certainly can and will do that,” Ioreth said coldly. “I know you are lying. You might as well admit it.”  
  
“I can’t show you the way,” Nori gritted out. “I can’t.”

“Then your sisters will die.” Ioreth shook her head. “Is your friends really worth the cost of your sisters lives? That of your unborn niece or nephew? Think, who do you really owe your loyalty to? It’s understandable if you left because of what happened to your lover-”  
  
“My _husband_ ,” Nori growled. “And you will not talk to me about him. You have no right.”  
  
“All I’m asking is if you will really abandon your family. Again.”  
  
Nori’s fingers clenched into a fist and when she relaxed it her entire body seemed to sag.  
  
“I’ll, I can make you a map.”  
  
“No,” Ioreth said firmly. “You will show us the way.”  
  
“But the Elves,” Nori protested. “It’s one thing if I’m by myself, but if they see that I’m not alone-“  
  
“You _will_ show us the way,” the Seeker said and crossed her arms. “Or your sisters _will_ die.” 

Nori narrowed her eyes and looked searchingly up at the Seeker. “Fine,” she finally spat. “I’ll show you the bloody way, or as much of it as I can before we get eaten by something hearing your guards stomp around, or before we’re turned into pincushions by the Elves.” Nori continued to mutter darkly even as the Seeker smiled and left the room, leaving Nori alone with the guards.

For a moment the redhead didn’t move, then she sighed deeply and bowed her head until her brow touched the table, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Her unbound hair tumbled down in waves of auburn to hide the sides of her face and unseen by all Nori smiled.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE! 
> 
> Will anyone manage to read this far I wonder?

**Author's Note:**

> Don't miss the art for this story
> 
> http://pandamani.tumblr.com/post/86830130354/the-second-fic-i-did-art-for-the-hobbit-big-bang


End file.
